Clean Slate
by HaileeLovesBooks
Summary: After John Winchester is arrested, Bobby adopts the boys. Dean is forced to choose between giving Sammy the home he's dreamed of or coming out to his homophobic uncle, which puts tension on his blossoming relationship with the cute neighbor boy. Also posted on AO3. Rated for future language and violence, as well as implied child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

"Can I drive?" Dean asked, eyeing the steering wheel enviously. Behind him, his little brother laughed at the futile attempt.

"Dean Michael Winchester, for the last time!" Finally at the end of his rope, Chuck snapped at his young passenger.

Dean sat back with his hands raised in mock surrender, a mischievous grin splayed across his face. "What? I thought I'd ask!"

"This is a county car. You are an unlicensed minor. Your boredom is not worth my job or your safety!"

Dean leaned to the back and in a clearly audible conspiratory whisper, he informed Sammy, "See, he puts his job before our safety just like I told you. Pay attention to the way he prioritizes next time, and you, too, could catch him in the act!"

Sammy giggled happily, and Dean reflexively chuckled at the sight, although he and Chuck were both pretty sure that Sammy's reaction was more to do with exhaustion after being stuck in the car for what had felt like forever.

"Can we at least listen to my music?" Dean begged.

Chuck sighed and conceded. "Whatever you want, Dean," he agreed. If there was anything legal that would calm the teenager down, he was willing to do it at this point.

Sam giggled again. "I thought shotgun shut his cake hole, Dean!"

Dean shrugged, victorious, and began surfing the radio. "I guess this shotgun just packs a little more heat, Sammy."

"We're almost at your uncle's," Chuck said. (Honestly, when Dean was honest with himself, the man had to be some kind of super human, having endured many things that would try the patience of a saint!) "It's not for too long. Now, look, the Sheriff is going to be there to make sure everything goes smoothly. I'm not anticipating any issues since you are pretty good kids from what I've seen of you."

"Wow, I pity you," Dean commented. "You must have a godawful frame of reference!"

"I have a few kids of my own," Chuck admitted.

Dean laughed as he cut off, but he found a station playing Lynyrd Skynyrd, and soon the chorus of "Simple Man," complete with off key audience participation (namely, Dean), filled the car.

The hand off went smoothly, Chuck promised to be back in a week after they had gotten a chance to settle in just a bit, and to bring their shrink with him when he came back.

Dean and Sam had nodded and agreed and smiled at all the right times and then raced to their rooms as soon as the door had shut.

Downstairs, the Sheriff was getting ready to head out. "You've got two good kids there, Bobby. I knew they wouldn't be any trouble."

"Well, we will have to see about that," Bobby smirked. "If I know my nephews, they'll wait until everything settles down and then do one crazy outrageous, and totally defensible act. Then they'll be done."

Sheriff Jody Mills shrugged. "Have a good night, Mr. Singer."

"Mr. Singer? What is this, Bismarck?" Bobby scoffed.

"Night, Bobby," she amended with a small smile, heading down the street.

"Night, Jody," he returned good-naturedly, closing the door behind her.

Then began the interesting part. Fatherhood was never something that he would have thought to be possible, but with John in prison, he couldn't just let the two boys go to some stranger, or worse, be left on the streets.

Besides, all he had to do was screw up less than John, and he had no intention of even coming close to that man's level of destruction. Maybe he could pull this off after all, he thought, moments before two scrawny arms were flung around his waist.

"Sam?"

"Thank you, Uncle Bobby," the kid said, gratitude practically seeping out of every pore.

"For what?" Bobby was genuinely confused.

"For our rooms!" Sam explained happily.

Bobby snorted and ruffled the kid's hair. If providing basic human needs was all it took to make them happy, he could definitely pull this off.

"So what do you want to do, Dean?" Bobby asked, giving the boys a chance to rest after their long drive.

Dean shrugged. "Sammy?"

"I'm a little hungry," Sam admitted, looking apologetically at Bobby.

"Hungry? Do you want to go out or stay in?" Bobby asked.

Sam shrugged and tossed it back to Dean. "What do you think, Sammy? You want dinner or are you just hungry for a sandwich?"

Sam hesitated for a second. "I think I just want a sandwich," he answered quietly.

Bobby looked at him carefully, eyes slightly narrowed. "You sure about that, boy?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Dean?"

Dean ruffled his hair affectionately. "I'll make you your sandwich, Sammy," he promised. A smile lit up Sam's face momentarily.

"Thanks, Dee," he whispered.

"Of course, baby boy," Dean answered just as quietly.

He made his way to the kitchen, Bobby hovering in the doorway. "Do you need anything else before I go help Dean, Sam?"

Sam nodded frantically. "Uncle Bobby, can you show me where things are?"

Bobby nodded slowly. "What things are you looking for, Sam?"

"I'm not looking for anything, I just don't know if there might be something that I want to look for later, and I want to know where it is," he explained carefully.

Bobby nodded. "I can give you the grand tour," he agreed. "You going to be alright in there, Dean?" he asked. "I'm giving Sam a tour of the house."

Dean hesitated, his hand freezing on the package of bread he had just reached for. Then he grounded himself and remembered that this was South Dakota, this was Bobby's house, and Sam would be safe. "Yeah," he answered after a second. "What kind of sandwich do you want, Bobby?"

"I'll have whatever Sam's having," Bobby decided. Dean laughed.

"No, you won't," he promised Bobby. "Trust me on that."

Bobby frowned and looked at Sam, confused. "What are you eating, son?" he asked.

Sam giggled, a delighted sound echoing through the empty house and bringing a satisfied smile to Dean and Bobby. "Oh, you'll see," Dean promised.

"Just go with good old fashioned peanut butter and jelly," Bobby decided, waiting for Sam's seal of approval.

"Sounds good," Dean called back from the kitchen, and Sam nodded firmly.

"Okay, then. Tour time now?" Bobby asked Sam, who nodded excitedly.

He had originally asked for it to make sure that Bobby didn't stay with Dean, because bad things happened when people stayed with Dean, and then Dean would cry and Sam didn't like to see Dean cry. Now, though, he was actually getting excited about seeing the house. He wasn't worried about Bobby staying with him. As far as he knew, Dean had supernatural powers that protected Sam no matter where he was.

"Yeah, let's go!" he answered with another giggle.

Dean fought back a short wave of jealousy as he realized that it was no longer his most rewarding job to make sure that Sammy laughed like that. It used to be like a contest. He would be in extreme pain, and Sam would be so worried and scared and Dean would do and say anything he possibly could until Sammy couldn't hold in the laughter anymore, then they both knew that they would be okay, and they could rest. After a nightmare, sometimes, Dean would lull Sammy back to sleep with an extremely silly story, especially if the nightmare had shaken him too and he needed to hear the precious giggle to know that all was right in the world.

Shaking thoughts of jealously and time past from his mind, Dean unwrapped the cellophane cover around the bread.

He opened the package as quietly as he could, watching each fold of plastic separate, flatten, and straighten out into a solid rectangle around the pre sliced loaf of bread. Discarding the first slice, because no one actually eats the ends of the bread, he drew out two perfectly rounded slices of white bread, nodding to himself at the quality of the bread. Sammy was about to be spoiled, he realized, considering that they could actually get what he wanted instead of always going for the off brand, cheaper stuff.

With a start, he realized that he wouldn't have to save up quarters for Lucky Charms anymore. If they ran out (and by "they" he obviously meant "Sammy"), Bobby would just buy more.

He laid the bread slices side by side and pursed his lips, looking around the kitchen. He opened various drawers and cabinets before he finally found what he was looking for: a butter knife, which he laid above the bread, handle above one slice and nonexistent blade above the other; a jar of peanut butter, creamy not crunchy because Sam didn't like peanuts no matter how much he loved peanut butter; and a ripe banana, perfectly yellow with less than five bruises but with absolutely no green because Sammy deserved the absolute best quality when it was available.

He carefully the lid from the peanut butter and tore off the inner seal with only a moment of compulsory doubt. He had to remind himself once again that he was at Bobby's not with John. This wasn't a random stranger's place, he didn't have to pay for everything his brother ate. With a start, Dean realized that he would have to make himself a sandwich too, and Bobby would be there when he ate it, and he wouldn't get in trouble for being wasteful.

Shaking his head, Dean dug the knife into the peanut butter and swirled it up like he would have if Sammy had been watching him. The kid was so fascinated by the way peanut butter worked, and it cracked Dean up, but the rule was to take care of Sammy, so that was what he did.

Drawing the knife out, coated thickly in the spread, he smiled at his success and spread the knife's contents on the bread with a flourish. Each layer of peanut butter had its own secret message, although Sammy didn't know that. This one had a crudely drawn car outline sketched into the gooey spread.

Wiping the knife clean on the other slice of bread, Dean reached for the giant banana. He carefully peeled it, making sure to keep all the strings on the peel because Sammy hated strings, and pulled the little stick at the end out. Using the butter knife, he sliced the banana into normal sized slices, then layered them carefully onto the peanut butter until he had a single, solid layer of banana above the first layer of peanut butter.

Next was the peanut butter again. He slathered more of the peanut butter over the banana until it was entirely covered, then carefully drew three stick figures of varying sizes, and one rectangle that clearly represented their luggage, but it really didn't matter since Sammy would never see it anyway.

Normally, if Sammy were watching, he wouldn't do anything sappy. He would be telling a pirate story, and everything about the sandwich making process was part of the story. As he stirred the peanut butter, he would tell Sammy how the waves in the ocean whipped against the boat, as he chopped the banana, there would be some magnificent weapons training, and each layer of peanut butter would have a sketch of the story in it.

Grabbing more banana slices, he smiled at the memories of the countless pirate stories he had told. They were all the same, really. Dean and Sam were the most widely feared pirates of the seven seas, but they never hurt anyone. No, they were the best because they helped people instead, and it terrified the other pirates, who were governed by violence, because brotherly love trumps all fears.

He added more peanut butter to his creation and pursed his lips, looking at the banana slices left. There was just enough for one more layer, so he drew a triangle with a square beneath it, making a house, and added an open door, since he was feeling artistic today.

More bananas, and he slipped the last slice into his mouth since it wouldn't fit on the sandwich. If Sammy were there, he would smirk and say, "Consider it income tax. Sandwich incoming, Dean gets the tax," or something equally corny. "Just be glad I didn't take a bite out of this monstrosity!"

And Sam would giggle and say wisely, "That's why I eat it, Dee!"

Dean shook his head. He had to start remembering that his baby brother was a teenager, but he didn't want to start facing that whole thing yet.

He slathered the last layer of peanut butter and, feeling unbelievably sappy, attempted a heart.

He laid the top slice of bread over the whole thing, carefully sliced the sandwich diagonally, and laid the sandwich on a plate he'd found during his treasure hunt.

He grabbed two more plates and made his and Bobby's peanut butter and jelly without any further deliberation, finishing just as the tour ended.

Bobby took one look at Sam's sandwich and shot Dean a very grateful look.

"Did you put pictures on it?" Sam asked, excitedly.

"Yeah, but they're all smashed now," Dean reminded Sam quickly.

"Oh, right! Will you tell me the story?" he asked hopefully.

"It's the best story ever," Dean promised.

"Is it pirates?"

"Better than pirates."

"It's still brothers, though, right?"

"It will always be brothers, baby boy."

"What is it, then?"

Dean grinned and walked his plate to the dining room table. "It's our story, Sammy. The beginning, at least. I don't know the end yet."

Sammy frowned. "You drew pictures of us as babies?"

Dean shook his head. "I drew pictures of us coming here."

"But you said it was the beginning!" Sam explained, confused.

Dean smiled softly and rested his hand on his baby brother's head. "It is," he answered simply, not seeing Bobby's pleased expression in the background as he observed this.

"Everything before, it didn't matter. This is the beginning of us, okay, Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "You mean, like a blank page?"

"I mean, like a completely different diary, princess," Dean teased, dodging the inevitable punch and choosing not to remark on its lack of strength and pain.

It was a fresh start, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam walked in the door of the single family home, letting it swing shut behind him, and tried to sneak up the stairs before anyone saw him. He almost made it too, but Dean came around the corner, stuffing his face with cherry pie.

"Sammy! You've got to try this one! It's the best one yet!" He enthusiastically held out a second plate and waited, counting the seconds until Sam could no longer resist the truly alluring aroma of the sticky filling and the sweet, flaky crust.

Sam sniffed the air appreciatively. "Smells good, Dean. I'll be right back. Gotta put my books down before I break my back. Can you put ice cream on it? Please?"

There was silence behind him, and he silently crossed his fingers that Dean would accept his excuse and let him go, but he knew that the effect was not quite the same without his puppy eyes in the mix.

Still, he couldn't turn around, and when there was still no sound from behind him, he shrugged his shoulders and forced a cheerful voice. "I'll take that as a yes, jerk." He was about to keep heading up the steps when he felt a hand on his backpack.

"Turn around, Sammy," Dean ordered in a quiet, no arguments, tone.

Sam sighed. "Why? I just want to go upstairs!" he whined.

"Sammy."

Burning with shame, Sam slowly turned, but he misjudged and slipped off the step he was on. He started dropping toward the floor, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean shove a forkful of pie into his mouth, shift the plates to one arm, and shoot the other arm out to catch him.

The balancing was a little shaky, (there were two plates of pie to be protected at all costs, after all) but Sam leaned against his brother gratefully.

"I'll take that pie now?" he asked, venturing a look into Dean's face.

As he'd suspected, Dean was temporarily preoccupied ensuring that the sanctity of the pies had been upheld. He still had a solid grasp on the collar of Sam's shirt, though, as Sam quickly discovered.

"Not so fast, kid," Dean warned, heading for the kitchen and dragging Sammy behind him. He carefully deposited the pies on the counter with a last, longing glance before walking Sam back out into the dining room and sitting him down.

"Let me see the damage."

Sam reluctantly lifted his head and avoided Dean's sharp gaze as he perused the forming black eye and the various scrapes and bumps.

"Do you have a teacher note?" Dean asked, turning away to get some ice from the freezer.

Sam shook his head, but Dean was facing the other way and didn't see it. When Dean got back, he knelt in front of Sam's chair and held the ice up to his face. "Do you, Sammy?"

Sam winced as the frozen peas came into contact with his bruised face. "No." he answered shortly.

"Why not?"

Sam shrugged. "Fighting with bookshelves is clumsy, not criminal, Dean."

Dean's hand trembled, and he motioned for Sam to hold the ice himself while he stood up and walked out of the room quickly, shaking his head vigorously. He came back a minute later and sat down in another chair, looking at Sam sadly.

"Sammy, we don't live like that anymore, kid. I don't want to hear that line ever again, okay? I know I trained the hell out of you to keep you from getting hurt over it, but that's over, do you hear me? It's over. We're going to be okay, and it is not dangerous to be honest anymore. I promise, it's going to be just fine!" Tears were rolling down his face, but he didn't even care.

Sam sniffed a little and nodded soberly. "Why, Dean?" he asked.

"I don't fucking know, Sam," Dean whispered back. "I just know that it will never, ever happen again. And I know that I need to hear exactly what happened to you. I spent the last thirteen years making sure that you never had to go to school with a black eye or a broken jaw. I, god, I shouldn't have let my guard down when we got here. This is my fault, Sammy, I'm so sorry." He dropped his head and shook with silent tears.

Sam leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "No, Dee. This isn't your fault. Please don't think this is your fault! I got into a fight in the library, and it was all my fault, I promise. I wasn't even part of the argument, but I couldn't just stand there, okay?"

Dean took a deep breath to steady his voice and looked up. "What happened, Sammy?"

"I was in the library looking for a book for my research project, these three other boys were in there. One of them is gay, and the other two started teasing him and calling him names and throwing books at him, and I couldn't take it anymore, so I lobbed one of my hard cover books at one of them. So then the two bullies started fighting me, and then after we knocked a bookshelf over, they took off pretty quick, and the other kid that I was trying to help slapped me and told me that he wasn't a pussy and he didn't need some macho scrawny ass straight kid to defend his honor or anything like that."

Dean hissed through his teeth and frowned sharply. "What happened next?"

Sam shrugged. "You know how it works. The librarian came over, I told her how clumsy I was and helper her pick everything up. Can I have some pie now?"

Dean groaned. "If you come home with a single bruise more, I'm telling Bobby. I'll uphold your story for now, but you have to understand something, alright Sam? Don't take it personal. Most people are never grateful to be rescued. Some of them don't even want it. Just be careful, alright? Don't get into any more fights for other people. As much as I admire your selflessness, you'll get yourself killed, alright Squirt?"

Sam nodded and Dean ruffled his hair as he stood up to get the pie.

"Thanks for the ice, jerk," Sam offered, a half smirk on his face.

Dean turned in the doorway to the kitchen wearing a matching grin. "Anytime, bitch!"

"Language," Bobby growled from the front door. Both boys looked sheepish, but they knew that he wasn't actually angry, so they only held their heads down for a second, then Dean visibly brightened.

"Do you want some pie, Bobby?" he asked cheerfully. "I've almost got the recipe right!"

Once Sam was finally busy doing his homework, Dean told Bobby an excuse about needing some fresh air, too much pie, walking it off. Considering how much pie Dean had eaten before Sammy got home, it was completely believable. Dean had caught Sammy about to point out that he'd never seen Dean too hungry for pie before, and he'd shaken his head silently.

If Sam wanted Bobby to be brought into this, he could go ahead and ask about why Dean had lost his appetite.

In the meantime, Dean explained how he'd had to taste test each creation, and he didn't want anyone to eat the bad ones and embarrass him, so he'd had no choice but to eat every single pie. (He casually left out the fact that the other tries were all attempted at various times over the past three years. That didn't change the data too much, did it?)

He was just walking aimlessly around with no real goal in mind, casually kicking stones down the sidewalk.

Inside his head, he was berating himself, cussing himself out, and comparing his existence to the stones he was kicking: not good for much but some people enjoy throwing them around.

He was very resolutely not looking up, and eventually he stopped actually focusing on his feet and just kept walking.

In the back of his head, he knew that he was walking in circles, which made him feel better about living his fantasy of running away, so he just kept going.

Until he ran smack into a person, and tried to stumble back quickly and re focus on everything, but he moved back to fast and started tripping over his own feet. The other person reacted faster and more smoothly than Dean did, throwing strong arms out to catch him and pulling him upright, which happened to be flush against him.

Dean blinked, slowly, and let his head stop spinning, only to open his eyes and be royally confused by the vision mere centimeters from his face. "How hard did I hit my head?" he asked.

The boy in front of, or more accurately, pressed up all over him, laughed delightedly. "What do you mean?"

"I have to be imagining things," Dean breathed. "Hallucinating or some shit, right? That happens with a concussion. There's just no way that you actually look like that!"

The boy cocked his head, his eyes still laughing. "Like what? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Dean answered immediately. "That's the thing. You're fucking perfect."

"I hate to break it to you, kid, but you didn't hit your head," the boy smiled back, and of course his eyes were blue. Could he get any better? "I have to admit, though, as often as I tell my roommate that people are falling head over heels for me, this is the first time anyone has ever taken it literally!"

"I can't imagine why. It certainly has its perks!" Dean answered, his mind still reeling and not quite processing everything that was being said.

The other guy smiled back once again. "Now that's what I like to hear. How about we go over here and let you sit down because you seem a little bit very much out of it right now, okay?"

Dean nodded and let himself be guided over to what looked like a big green cube sitting in the grass a few feet off the sidewalk. He was supremely relieved to find that the other boy still had to use his well-defined arm muscles to guide him.

"So, we're just going to kind of sit here awkwardly until you really come back to yourself, okay?"

Dean nodded, star struck. "Are you sure you aren't an angel? Because I swear you had a halo," he added helpfully.

"That was the street light," the other boy assured him. "And I'm very certain that I am human, although I was named after an angel."

Dean's eyes widened, and he laughed in delight. "Can I guess your name?"

The boy shrugged, and Dean began rattling off every angel name he'd ever heard of, which definitely didn't go over well with the other boy, who apparently knew a person with each of the names Dean was spouting.

As he made his way through Christian lore, though, Dean's mind was slowly returning to normal, remembering countless nights studying random trivia for John to fight monsters with, remembering John getting arrested and Dean's bruises getting catalogued and treated, remembering the bruises on Sammy's face.

With a start, he trailed off mid "Gabri-" although he wasn't fast enough to miss the slight smile on the boy's face at that name, and he determined to come back to it sometime.

For now, though, he was very embarrassed. "Um," he shifted around nervously.

The other boy's smile spread across his face. "Glad to have you back," he greeted Dean. "Should I introduce myself, or would you like to keep guessing?"

Dean shook his head, his face burning. Sure, the boy was gorgeous (Dean didn't even know he had a type until he met this guy, and now if he had to describe his type, he would just use a picture of him [Note to self: get a pic of this guy to show people!]), but he hadn't meant to tell him so as thoroughly as he had.

"I'm sorry," he began apologizing profusely, but the other boy waved it off.

"Trust me, if you'd been at some of my roommate's house parties, you would just be relieved that you were sober."

"That just means that I'm responsible for every word that came out of my mouth," Dean wailed but at a subdued volume.

The other guy flashed another megawatt smile. "I will be more than willing to pretend to forget everything you said, if that's what you want. That's assuming that you didn't mean it, of course. In the meantime, mind if we start over?"

Dean didn't think his cheeks could burn any hotter, but once again, science proved him wrong. He shook his head, not entirely sure what he was responding to, but less sure of what to say.

The other boy held out his hand firmly. "Castiel Novak, never Cassie, occasionally Cas," he introduced himself.

"Dean Winchester, and you have a long ass name," Dean answered drily, shaking the hand he was being offered.

"It's not the only thing," Cas smirked lasciviously.

Dean froze, confused. Was he actually flirting with Dean? Unsure of how to respond, he just laughed nervously and dropped Cas's hand to wipe his on his pants.

"What's wrong, Dean? Not used to your crushes being reciprocated?" Cas teased lightly.

Dean shook his head before he could stop himself, and found his space being invaded once again.

Unsurprisingly, even in the right head space, being pressed up against Cas was incredible.

"Can I tell you a secret, Dean?" Cas asked, his voice practically right next to Dean's ear.

Dean nodded dumbly.

"I'm not the only incredibly attractive person here right now, and I almost never actually say that and mean it," Cas continued. "You, though. God, you might actually be perfect, and the things I want to do to you, well, most people would want a formal date or two at least first."

Going on impulse for what may have been the first time in his life, Dean grabbed the last shreds of his courage and pulled back just slightly so they were face to face. "I really hope kissing is on that list, because if it isn't, this is going to be really embarrassing," he said by means of warning before quickly pressing his lips to the other boy's.

Quickly was the plan, but Cas responded so quickly, so intoxicatingly, that Dean couldn't find it in him to pull back, and for a random moment, he had to wonder if they would be stuck like this forever, which he found he didn't mind at all.

In reality, it was only a matter of seconds before Cas pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk at the blank expression on Dean's face. "That gives me a whole lot of wonderful ideas," he stated, leering.

Dean smiled shyly, not sure what to do now.

"Do you want to, uh, come see where I live?" Cas offered, the seemingly innocent offer anything but considering, well, a few things actually.

Dean bit his lip nervously. "I don't know," he whispered, looking down.

Cas shrugged. "Alright," he agreed. "How about we meet up again, then? Because I don't want this to be goodbye. I hope you can live with that."

Dean looked up quickly, hope flaring in his chest again. "Yeah," he breathed.

Cas frowned. "Come on, Dean. I know you only just met me, but did you really think I'd be such a pig that if you didn't want to put out on what wasn't even a first date, I'd just leave you and never want to meet up?"

Dean bit his lip again, and Cas brushed the lip out from between his teeth with his thumb.

"Hey, look, meet me back here tomorrow, same time?"

Dean nodded hesitantly, and Cas beamed.

"May I kiss you goodnight, Dean Winchester?" he asked, very formally considering how entirely he was invading Dean's space.

Dean nodded, a shy smile spreading over his own face.

This kiss was gentle, lingering, and Dean felt a keen sense of loss when Cas stepped back and let go of him.

"I'm thinking tomorrow might need to hurry up and get here," Cas said in a rough voice that sent legit sparks through Dean.

He nodded ruefully but began to back away slowly. He really should get home before Bobby got worried.

Cas tilted his head. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever it was that you were worried about," Cas shrugged. "If you want to talk, I'd love to listen. And if not, I hope it works itself out, alright?"

Dean nodded, a small smile on his face again.

"Goodnight, Cas," he said quietly.

Cas smiled back. "Night, Dean," he answered before they turned and went their separate ways.

Cas laid awake in his bed, a myriad of thoughts flying through his head. He was fully accustomed to taking whatever he wanted, and in that moment, he'd wanted to kiss the other boy. Of course, it was always nice when the other boy responded like Dean had, but this time just felt different. He certainly wasn't regretting anything that had happened, it was one of the best experiences of his life, and he was anxious to repeat it.

The thing that was catching him off guard was exactly what he kept remembering. It wasn't all the passionate, heavy making out; it was the soft, tender goodbye kisses.

He rolled over and punched the pillow halfheartedly. This wasn't him! He was the world renowned player who played his cards, got his cheeks, and took off without ever involving feelings.

He did almost all of his dealings in the dark, and he preferred it that way. He didn't have to make eye contact with anyone, and he never had to pretend that nothing had happened. It was a very adult process, as he had laughed about with Meg one night.

Meg was the one exception to his rule, until now. She was a great roommate, she'd been a decent girlfriend, and now she was the perfect occasional bedmate.

They had a very loose, no strings attached relationship that consisted of a series of booty calls, an occasional pizza date, and a monthly budget meeting (with Gabriel), none of which interfered with each other.

She had always known about his other girlfriends and boyfriends, and they had always known about her. She was a given in any relationship, and he was never with anyone who would have a problem with that.

Yeah, he was good with the smooth talking stuff that got him laid so often, and he was incredible with the follow up, and he had a way of breaking up with people that didn't leave them thinking that there was anyone to blame or that there was anything salvageable.

But now, he was already considering telling Meg that they'd have to cut the last two words off of their friends with benefits relationship. He was dying to memorize what color Dean's eyes were, and he wanted to know just how flushed his face got when Cas did, well, anything. He wanted to have an entire binder full of Dean's reactions and descriptions of how he looked and felt and tasted.

He wanted to fall asleep with Dean in his arms, he wanted to be allowed to call his brother Sammy (word got around fast when it came to hostility like Dean showed if anyone dared to try that), and he never wanted to let Dean down or let him go.

He heard the door open quietly, because he had considerate, cautious roommates, and he decided to do something about this. Slipping out of bed (and quickly checking that he had, in fact, worn clothes tonight), he left his room and snuck up behind Gabe in the kitchen.

"What, Cas?" he asked without turning around, a second before Cas could jump up and scare the shit out of him.

"How did you know it was me?" Cas pouted, dropping into a seat at the table.

"Do I have to go through this again?" Gabe asked, unpacking his lunch box and wiping it down with a damp sponge.

"Yes," Cas answered resolutely.

"Castiel James, I swear to god, you might as well be my brother at this point."

"I don't think so," Cas frowned. "Mike and I look nothing alike, and Luce is way too cruel for me to even believe that you would compare us!"

Gabe sighed. "I wasn't trying to compare you to one of my existing brothers, Cas. I was just going to add you to the ranks."

"Sweet! So I don't have to be Raf this time?" Cas asked, tiredly excited.

Gabe dropped his head and breathed out very, very slowly before answering. "The only reason I suggested it in the first place is because you are just as fucking annoying as every last one of those shits, Cas. What the hell do you want at three in the morning?" He held up a hand as Cas opened his mouth. "And before you answer, think good and hard on the fact that I am one hundred percent straight and completely certain that I will not be questioning it any time in the future."

"No, nothing like that," Cas quickly explained. "Well, not with you, at least."

Gabe sighed and pulled out a chair next to Cas. "Did Meg finally turn you down?" he asked, sitting down heavily.

"Please," Cas snorted. Then he turned serious. "Really, Gabe, I have a problem."

"What's wrong, kid?" Gabe asked.

"I think I might be in love," Cas admitted. It sounded strange out loud, but it was the only thing he could think of that could do this to him.

"What makes you think so?" Gabe asked.

"Well, all I can think about is seeing him again, and I feel super lonely but even hanging out with you isn't making it better because I keep wondering how he would respond to things that you say and it makes me a little sad that I don't get to find out because he wasn't here with me to hear them. And I kind of really want to see him in the daylight and find out what color his eyes are, and does his hair have highlights, and does his skin have freckles? And then I want to count his freckles and I want to compliment him until all the freckles disappear, and I want to drag him to a mirror and tell him how pretty he is until he can't help but see himself the way I see him. And I kind of want to be the only person he ever vents to again, and I really want to go fix all of his problems so that instead of venting to me, all he has to talk about is how happy he is. I really just want to see him smile, and I'd love to see him smile at me, but I'm kind of afraid to see him smile because of me because if I ever managed to be the reason his face lit up, I think that I would be so happy I might cry. Am I going crazy, Gabe?"

"Yes," Gabe answered immediately. "But in a good way, I'm sure, Cassie. Sounds like you definitely have it bad! Does he like you?"

Cas grinned. "Considering how fast he responded,"

"Hey," Gabe cut in warningly.

"To my kiss!" Cas finished dramatically, laughing at the relieved look on Gabe's face. "Come on, Gabe, I wasn't about to do anything else! He's a special one, he deserves way, way better. He deserves to be worshipped and have statues made in his honor that I can become a slave to for life before I'll deserve to even touch him again." Cas trailed off, a dreamy look in his eyes.

"Jesus, Cas, I don't think even I was that bad!" Gabe laughed, poking at Cas's face and squeezing his lips together, but eliciting no response from the star struck kid. "Think your parents would like him?"

Cas nodded. "They'd adore the shit out of him. He's super sweet and respectful and just plain adorable, and he makes me happy, so they can't have any complaints!"

Gabe sighed. "I'm going to bed, kid. You go do your dream thing in your own bed, and don't tell me anything if Dean makes a surprise appearance and you do a different dream thing, okay?" He stood up but waited.

"Okay," Cas agreed, barely paying attention. Gabe smirked and waited some more. "Wait, what? How did you- were you- when did-?"

Now laughing out loud, Gabe made his way to his room. "I'm a smart cookie, Castiel. Get used to it!"

"Good night to you too, you dick head," Cas muttered.

"Aw, you know you love me," Gabe teased, turning back to squish Cas in a protective hug.

Cas returned the hug, of course, and after a second, he clung just a little tighter, and Gabe rubbed his back gently.

"Hey, bud, what is it?" he asked softly.

Cas lifted his head, a vulnerable look that hardly anyone ever saw plastered across his face. "Do you think they'd mind, Gabe?"

Gabe didn't even have to ask anymore, he just hugged Cas a little tighter. "They wouldn't want you to stay sad forever, Cassie." The nickname carried more affection than teasing now. "You said it yourself. All they want is for you to be happy, and if Dean makes you happy, they won't mind at all."

"But," Cas shifted nervously and dropped his head again, just too late for Gabe to miss the suspicious shine in his eyes. "But sometimes," he continued in a choked voice, "when I'm happy, I start to forget. I don't want to forget, Gabe." He sniffled miserably.

"Aw, buddy. Listen to me, little dude. It's okay if you stop remembering all the bad stuff, okay? And if you don't entirely remember all of the good, that's okay, too. They understand, and they don't mind at all. I know you want to keep seeing them, and you want to hear their voices, but time is going to go on whether you want it to or not, and they won't be as clear. But you know what? You'll still have them. You have them inside you, you'll see them in the mirror, in different people in your life, in every little thing. You might not see them, and you might not hear them, but you will never lose them."

He stopped talking and let Cas cry like he hadn't since the night after the funeral. This time was different, though. These were healing tears. These were the beginning of a new life. No, it wasn't the life he'd ever want or choose for himself, but it was a life that he could live with, and for the first time in over a year, Gabe finally felt like his "little brother" really could survive this. If Dean was the key, he hoped the other kid never left.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked the next morning, running down the stairs.

"What is it, Dean?" Bobby asked gruffly, although Dean was beginning to remember that this was just his normal voice.

"What are the neighbors around here like?" Dean asked, changing the question from his original, "What do you know about Castiel?" That might lead very quickly to a conversation that he definitely didn't want.

Bobby shrugged. "Everyone here knows everyone here. If you were in school, maybe you'd know a couple more kids your age."

Dean bit his lip and ignored that sting. "It's just, I went for a walk last night, and I met this kid, Castiel?" He flinched inwardly as Bobby swung around and turned his gaze on Dean pointedly at Cas's name. "I was just wondering if you knew him."

"Why? He didn't try anything did he?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

Dean immediately backtracked, instinct taking over. "Oh, nothing bad happened! He just seemed pretty decent and I wanted to know more about him! Why? Is he not a good kid?"

Bobby sighed. "He's not a bad kid, I guess. You just can't trust him with anything. I think he was dating his whole senior class at the same time."

Dean didn't have to fake his reaction as his jaw dropped. He tried to play it cool, though. "Wow. That must have been a lot of girls!"

Bobby snorted. "If only. There were about six people in his graduating class, and only two of them were girls. They all knew about each other too. It was a whole different kind of drama than this town is used to!"

Dean frowned. "So he's, what, bisexual?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "I don't buy into any of that shit, Dean. He's a very troubled kid. There were a lot of things that went wrong for him, but hopefully one day, he'll pick a good girl, give up the rest of this crap, and settle down with her."

Dean winced, unable to control it this time, and just glad that Bobby had turned his attention back to the coffee he had been making.

How many times had John said that exact same thing to him? He'd lost count. "Well, you don't mind if we're friends, right?" he asked, his voice mostly steady. He quickly faked a yawn when Bobby looked over his shoulder questioningly.

"Of course not, ya idjit! You can be friends with whoever ya want to! Now get out of here and wake your brother up so we can eat these waffles before they get cold!"

"Oh no, we wouldn't want the waffles getting cold," Dean teased on his way out. "You might have to," he over exaggerated a theatrical gasp, "microwave them again!"

He laughed at Bobby's growl and muttered threat as he ran up the stairs and woke Sammy. While his brother was moaning and groaning about the early hour, Dean took a minute to compose himself and banish all of Bobby's words from his mind. It wasn't easy, and it certainly wouldn't last, but he didn't need anything clueing Sammy in on what was going on.

"Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to go! Get up already, lazy bones! Move your ass, Sammy." Finally, the kid dragged himself out of bed, half-heartedly flipping Dean off.

Dean laughed as he walked out of the room. "Good morning to you too, bitch."

He could have sworn he heard a muttered, "Fuck off, jerk," in the background, but he shook it off. There was no way his sweet, little Sammy would ever say that!

He made a mental note to have an ice pack ready and not make fun of Sam's face when he got downstairs. Apparently it was his cis male brother's time of the month, and he was not about to get his head bitten off because of it!

"Ya feelin' alright, son?" Bobby asked kindly when Dean refused a second waffle.

"Yeah," Dean answered thickly, clearing his throat and staring resolutely at his plate. Against his will, he felt his eyes start to sting, and he stood up, grabbing his plate. "I don't think my stomach's quite awake yet," he admitted, walking quickly into the kitchen to rinse off his dirty dishes.

He ignored the concerned gaze of his uncle as he returned back into the dining room, and instead, he went to Sammy's chair and gave him a rough, affectionate hug from behind.

"The hell, Dean?" Sam asked around a mouthful of syrupy waffles. Bobby narrowed his eyes but didn't address the language issue.

Dean didn't answer, burying his face in his brother's hair for a moment. Then he composed himself and straightened up. "What's the matter, Sammy?" he asked in his normal teasing voice. "I thought girls liked hugs."

Laughing harder than necessary, he walked up the stairs, ignoring Sammy's death glare, and dropped onto his bed face first, letting the tears fall. Ordinarily, he'd be ashamed of a break down like this, but this was no ordinary scenario.

He'd done the best he could, but every time he looked up and saw Sam's face, covered in bruises, he lost his appetite. Maybe it really was different, but he'd devoted his life to make sure that he never had to see that, and now he didn't even know what to think.

"Fucking worthless," he whispered to himself. "Spend fourteen years practicing, but when it comes down to it, you can't even do the one thing you're devoted to. You can't protect your fucking brother. What the hell is wrong with you? It's your only job, so why can't you keep him safe? Why can't you stop the whole fucking world from interfering with his life? He's still just a kid, and he's covered in fucking bruises and you didn't do shit about it. What the hell, Dean?"

He stayed in his room, unresponsive, until it was time for Sammy's school to let out, when he walked himself down to the building and stood on the corner, waiting for Sammy. He told himself that he was trying to start a brotherly bonding tradition, but he knew that it wasn't his real motive.

"Have to keep Sammy safe. Have to take care of Sammy," was the mantra running through his head. So when he saw his brother come out with a group of kids behind him, at first he was relieved. Then one of the bigger kids shoved Sam, who fell to his knees, and Dean saw red, not even noticing when he moved forward until it was too late.

Then he saw actual red, as the kid he was pummeling started to bleed, and he fell back, aghast at the damage he'd caused (although, the voice in his head reminded him, Sam's face had looked a hell of a lot worse)

"Dee?" Sammy asked hesitantly, placing a small hand on Dean's shoulder as he stepped back from the high schooler.

Dean placed his hand over Sammy's reassuringly for a moment, then shook it off and stepped back up the kid. "Don't you ever lay a hand on my brother again," he warned in a tight, barely controlled voice, then turned around and saw Sam's hurt, scared expression and almost lost it.

They walked home in silence until Dean reached for Sam and saw his brother flinch away. He dropped like a sack of potatoes and started crying openly, and in an instant, Sam was in front of him, hugging him.

"I'm sorry, Dee! I didn't mean it! I know you wouldn't hurt me, I just- I couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

Dean held onto him for a minute, crying into his shoulder, until he saw his bloody knuckles. He pushed Sam off of him gently and bent over, dry heaving, desperately wishing that whatever this thing inside of him would latch onto whatever tiny bit of food was in his system and just come out already.

Everything that had happened just rushed at him, and he had never felt so helpless in his life.

He barely noticed the Sheriff pulling up beside them, although the snap of metal on his wrists brought him back to the present somewhat.

He slumped, barely keeping himself up, and let them put him wherever they wanted as he listlessly obeyed. He thought he heard Sammy at one point, and he strained to understand, but he couldn't.

Utterly alone and utterly helpless, he just let himself check out completely and silently endured the ride to the police station.

He was in a cell before he remembered how to talk again. "Are they taking Sammy away?" he asked hoarsely.

The deputy looked at him sympathetically, Dean thought with a surge of hope. "You'd have to take that up with the state, son. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"He hurt Sammy," Dean answered in a low voice.

The deputy frowned. "Have you boys been in touch with that social worker of yours? Because this sounds like something more up his alley."

Dean shrugged. "He went on an administrative leave of absence. Haven't heard anything else from the state."

The deputy nodded. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that the state is held responsible for your actions, then."

Dean looked up hopefully. "You can do that?"

"No, you moron," the deputy laughed cruelly. "You tried to beat my son to a bloody pulp because you're irrational and off your rocker! I'm going to get you sent away for a long time!"

He walked away, shaking his head. "I'd say call if you need anything, but I'm not going to answer. Good luck with this mess, cause I'm suing the hell out of you."

Dean dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

Dean slouched morosely in a chair in Sheriff Mills' office, listening to Bobby and Deputy Walker argue it out while his new case worker, a Mr. Roman, mediated. They were all here waiting for the last member of their group meeting, who Dean had yet to meet, so that they could decide his future, and he knew that no matter what he said or did at this point, the final decision rested with the unknown individual.

Bobby and Deputy Walker kept going back and forth about whose kid was actually a danger to society and who was lying, and Sheriff Mills looked like she had a headache.

Eventually, Mr. Roman intervened. "Zip it up, gentlemen. This is a pointless exercise, and you are only succeeding in appearing younger than the charges you are attempting to protect. You should be aware of your priorities in this situation, and I hope for all of your sakes that your priority is justice and safety. That is certainly the priority of Sheriff Mills, myself, and my colleague, and it will determine the end result of this scenario."

Sheriff Mills nodded in agreement. "Well spoken, sir. Gordon, Bobby, you're both good people. I hope that fatherhood has not tainted your moral views, Bobby. Gordon, I certainly hope that you aren't acquiring a vendetta that would require me finding a replacement for you. Mr. Roman, if you could see if you can find out the ETA for our guest? And Dean." Her voice turned a bit sharper. "Sit up, son. You'll ruin your back slouching like that!"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean jerked into place, his back flat against his chair and his feet planted on the floor.

Roman was on his phone, calling his "colleague," and Bobby and Walker appeared to be silently sizing each other up.

Dean had a feeling that they had some kind of history, but he figured that this wouldn't be the right time to ask.

"Ma'am?" he ventured quietly, trying not to disturb anyone.

"Yes, Dean?" she answered promptly.

"Where's Sammy?"

"He's at school right now, and if this meeting lasts longer than his classes, one of my other deputies will pick him up and stay at your uncle's house with him. Does that sound alright?" Her voice was fairly sharp and businesslike, but she had kind eyes, and Dean felt like he could trust her.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, subdued once again.

She spared him a soft smile before turning her sharp gaze back onto the two stubborn men.

"My colleague will be here momentarily," Roman announced, ending his phone call.

Sure enough, moments later, the door opened quickly, and an assertive figure entered. "Alright, then, which one of you is a seventeen year old facing a potential misdemeanor, and where is this going down?"

Roman stood and nodded at Sheriff Mills.

"Well then, we'll make ourselves scarce, and you two boys can have a good chat, yeah? Gordon, Bobby, come on," she said, leading the way out of the office and leaving Dean and the newcomer alone.

"Nice to meet you, Dean. My name's Crowley." The man with the assuming presence stated, holding out his hand for Dean to take.

Dean eyed the hand suspiciously. "Just Crowley?" he asked.

"That's what my friends call me," the man replied, "although you don't seem to be the type to accept any kind of olive branch. Am I right?"

Dean shrugged and took the hand. "Olive branch means peace, which implies hostility. I don't think we've experienced any of that."

Crowley nodded with a somewhat terrifying smile, although considering his job could literally be described as "nightmare specialist," that was not all that surprising.

"You are definitely a smart kid, Dean."

"Not a kid," Dean answered immediately.

Crowley shrugged. "Eh, you're under eighteen. You're a kid. Now here's how this is going to work."

Dean frowned. "Hold up a minute. Isn't this 'head shrink cause we don't want you to turn out a psycho like your dad' bullshit supposed to go however I want it to?"

Crowley didn't hesitate before answering, "You seem to be a special case, Dean. You've been responsible your whole life, from what I've read in your file, so I'm going to take the reins here."

Dean fidgeted in his chair and mumbled a response.

"What was that, Dean? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you too well.

Dean looked up. "How bad did I screw up, then, Crowley?" he considering spitting the name out, but figured that the guy wasn't all that bad, if a lot different than what he'd expected.

"I don't follow."

"Yeah, I've been responsible my whole life. I've been taking care of Sammy since I was four. I made the schedule, I set the bedtime, and I told him when to go to school. He seems all right to me, so are you trying to tell me that I screwed up with him completely and that's why no one is letting me have any control anymore?"

Crowley pursed his lips. "First of all, you did an admirable job with your brother. From what I've read and what I can tell from just talking to you already, there is nothing more important to you than Sam." Just by not calling him Sammy, Crowley already had Dean's stamp of approval. "We just want you to be a seventeen year old for the few months that you can. Call it summer break, okay? No school, minimal responsibility. If the regimentation and lack of control is really an issue after you have had a chance to settle into your new life here, we can talk later about some options for you to regain that, but I think that we'll work on reducing your responsibility for now so that you actually have a chance to know what choice you're making, okay?"

"Does it even matter what I say?" Dean asked, defeated by the utter logic of Crowley's proposal.

"Of course it matters. You don't have the final say in every decision that has to be made anymore, but you still have a voice, and you are still an integral part of your family, especially when it comes to Sam. Your uncle wants to do what's best for you guys, and that will likely mean asking your opinion on things when it comes to your brother, so don't worry about that, okay? We aren't trying to minimalize your role in your brother's life. We're trying to expand your frame of reference so that you can learn to be his big brother and let someone else be his dad. Do you think that eventually you'll be able to handle that?"

Dean shrugged. "For Sammy, sure."

"What about for you? Let's put Sam aside for a minute because you know where he is, you know that he's safe, and you don't need to worry about him right now. Let's talk about what's best for you, Dean. Tell me a little about yourself. Your goals, your dreams, maybe. Your favorite dessert."

"Cherry pie," Dean answered immediately, shutting his mouth again

"Alright. What about the other two?"

"What? Apple and pumpkin are pretty good too, but cherry's my favorite," Dean answered defensively.

Crowley smiled. "Well, I think I have a pretty good understanding of what we need to address first, Dean, but let me reassure you of one thing before I head out. I want to make sure that you know that as long as you actually care about your brother, even if it is as obsessive as it is right now, you will never be your father, okay?"

Dean didn't want to admit the relief that he felt at hearing those words from a trained professional, so he shrugged and grunted noncommittally.

"Also, I'm assigning you homework. Come up with three goals for you in the next, say, five years to tell me at our next session." Crowley stood up.

"That's it?" Dean asked, frowning.

"I'm sorry," Crowley sat back down. "If you want to pour out your heart and soul, this can go on as long as you need it to, Dean," he added sarcastically.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. It was nice meeting you too, Crowley."


	4. Chapter 4

Double posting today because I'll be out of touch for the weekend, and also because I'm impatient.

Hugs and Chocolate,

~Hailee

* * *

"Talk to me, Dean. What's going on?" Crowley asked as he took a seat in the living room next to Dean.

Dean shrugged.

"You know, at some point, I'm going to have to get a verbal response, Dean." When the comment was ignored, Crowley sat back and waited in silence.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean finally spat out.

"Proof of life," Crowley answered cheerfully. "Now then, that's taken care of. Tell me how life's been treating you."

"Fine," Dean answered.

"Well, you aren't in handcuffs this time, so tell me if that feels like an upgrade or a downgrade."

Dean hesitated.

"I would have thought that would have been an obvious one," Crowley said, seemingly surprised. "Is there something we need to address? Because living at home should be a definite upgrade from being in jail, wearing cuffs."

Dean shifted but he knew that he had to answer this one if only so that the state didn't start questioning Bobby's qualifications again. "I guess it's just hard to know that I let Sammy down, and I didn't have to think about that when I was in jail," he muttered.

Crowley narrowed his eyes and cocked his head thoughtfully. "And it had nothing to do with the fact that an angry male figure was something you could relate to easier than a healthy family environment? Because it may be comfortable to stay where you have always been, but you know it won't be better for you in the long run."

"Deputy Walker," Dean definitely spit that out, "had nothing to do with it."

"But something at the jail did?"

Dean purposefully didn't answer, and Crowley hummed thoughtfully.

"Someone at the jail? Well, considering how you are right now, it obviously wasn't me, and Bobby is still here. That leaves Roman and Mills. Should I keep going, or are you going to make it easy on me?"

Dean sighed, but he was interested in what Crowley would deduce here, so he didn't offer any insight.

"Roman is a good case worker, but he's a slippery person, so he wouldn't appeal to you, who values honesty and straight forwardness. In fact, those are two of the Sheriff's best qualities, from what I've seen of her. Not to mention, she's exactly the kind of person that you might learn to see as a mother figure, and I completely understand if you were safer when she was around."

Dean thought about it, and was surprised to find that it actually made sense. "I guess," he conceded.

"What do you think made you trust her, Dean?" Crowley asked.

Dean sighed, but he'd come this far. It wouldn't hurt to answer another question, he figured. "Never been purposefully hurt by a woman, and she was the only person there who seemed to actually believe that I would be alright."

He could tell that Crowley was dying to ask about Bobby, but he held his tongue and mulled over that information. "Purposefully?" he finally asked.

Dean shrugged. "My mom died. It hurt. It wasn't her fault." He'd found that concise, basic sentences were the easiest way to discuss his mother.

"And how old were you when your mother died?" Crowley asked.

"Isn't it in my file?" Dean asked as he began to shift uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to go down this road.

Crowley nodded. "I can tell that this is getting a bit close for you. Just give me the age, and we'll stop for today, alright? Eventually, we will come back to this, but for now, I don't think we know each other well enough."

"I was four," Dean stated blankly, staring at the carpet and willing himself not to see his mother's hair and face, not to hear her singing to him gently, not to feel her arms around him, and most of all, not to hear her screaming as she burned in the house fire.

Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dean?"

Dean shook his head quickly. "Huh?" The thudding of his heart in his chest seemed heavier and faster than usual, and he felt himself begin to lose his firm control on his anxiety.

"You spaced out on me for a second there," Crowley explained evenly as if he understood that Dean was in a fragile state of mind right now. "I'm going to send Sam in if that's alright with you?"

Dean nodded. Sammy would be good. Sammy would understand.

Sure enough, Sam took one look at his brother and was instantly on the floor in front of him, his little hands cupping Dean's face.

"Dean, Dean! Dee, it's Sammy. Stay with me, Dee. I need you here, Dee. I need you to let her go so you can stay with me. Dee?"

It was like hearing through a vacuum, but it was Sammy, so he forced himself to focus and tried his best to listen to what he was saying.

Dean drew in a slow, deep breath and felt his heart beat return to normal as he finally became fully aware of the kid, and he laid a hand over Sammy's, smiling softly into the worried eyes in front of him.

"I'm still here, Sammy," he murmured. "You know I'll never actually leave you."

Sammy nodded and stood back up, relief palpable on his face.

"You know, if you ever have a growth spurt, you'll be way too big to do that," Dean laughed.

"Then we need to get you better before I grow any taller," Sam answered seriously, walking away now that the crisis was averted.

Dean reached out and caught his arm. "Hey, Sammy." His brother turned back to him cautiously. "Sam, I'm going to get better, I promise. This is the beginning of the end for that part of our lives, okay? We're going to be alright."

Sam nodded and let a small smile through his worried expression.

"I believe you, Dee."

Dean smiled. "You know I'd do anything for you, Sammy."

Sam rubbed his thumb over Dean's bruised knuckles thoughtfully. "I know," he answered significantly.

Dean hung his head.

"No, Dean, don't," Sam insisted. "I understand now, I really do. You don't scare me, Dee. In fact, I almost love you for taking care of me, jerk."

Dean offered a half smile. "Love you too, bitch."

Still slightly shaken over the incident with Crowley, but reassured now that he had seen Sam, Dean hardly even paid attention to what he was doing until he realized just too late that he had retraced his steps from two nights ago and had once again run right into Cas, who had apparently seen it coming, if the smirk on his face as he steadied Dean had anything to do with it.

"I'd say we've got to stop running into each other like this, but I enjoy it a little too much," Cas commented, his lips quirking up.

Dean had yet to raise his eyes high enough to meet Castiel's. He was nearly overcome with shame over bowling over his dreamboat guy after accidentally standing him up due to getting arrested.

"I'm sorry," Dean muttered, looking at the ground.

"Hey," Cas tucked a finger under Dean's chin and lifted it, staring into his eyes. While it sounded like he meant to continue with a statement, he made no move to do so, his eyes widening dramatically and his mouth hanging slightly open.

Dean was too busy being caught up in the wonder that was Cas's eyes to even notice that Cas was staring back just as rudely.

Cas recovered first. "Sorry," he apologized quickly, not stepping back. "It's just, god, I don't even have the right words. I can't believe how absolutely gorgeous you are now that I can actually see you, like, oh my fucking god your eyes are so green and how the hell did you get your lashes so perfect and you have so many more freckles than I realized can I please kiss them all?"

Dean came back to himself rather suddenly at the mention of kissing and stepped back hurriedly. "Look, Cas, I mean first of all, wow, your eyes are so distracting that I almost didn't even notice your biceps today and they were like my favorite thing. But seriously, I, uh, I need to explain something."

"I swear to god, Dean," Cas breathed, "if this is where you tell me that you aren't actually gay, I'm going to go insane."

Dean barked out a nervous laugh suddenly. "Oh, no. Definitely gay. I've got the scars to prove it."

"The what?" Cas asked, frowning. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Dean froze and quickly backtracked. "Nothing, no, it doesn't mean, oh, um, no it's just something that, and Sammy, we, uh, I forgot that you weren't one of the people I grew up with. It was kind of an inside joke, I guess," he recovered lamely. "Anyway," he continued quickly seeing Cas's disbelief at his hurriedly fabricated story, "I'm definitely gay, and if I wasn't before I met you, I'd definitely be questioning now."

"That's always a nice thing to hear," Cas answered easily, willing to brush over the taboo topic for now. "So since your orientation is not the main issue here, what is?"

Dean shifted nervously. "Uh, can we sit down?" he asked.

Cas nodded and led them both over to the transformer. When Dean continued to fidget rather than speak, he sighed. "Dean, if this is about why you weren't here last night, you have to understand what a small town this is." Dean's head shot up, panic rushing across his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone knows you got arrested, everyone knows that Ronnie is a dick, and the whole fucking state knows that Walker is the most bigoted, screw loose deputy that has ever been commissioned."

Dean frowned. "So what are you saying?"

Cas smiled gently and clarified, holding Dean's gaze. "The whole town understands your point of view, and we're all glad that you were willing to stand up for your brother and give that bully what he had coming to him."

Dean shook his head firmly. "No, Cas, I got mad and put a kid in the hospital! That isn't okay! That can't be right!"

Cas sighed. "You saw your family getting hurt and you broke the nose of the instigator. Ronnie's a crybaby. I know the real story. Believe me."

"How do you know?" Dean asked hollowly.

Cas looked at him curiously for a minute before deciding about whatever he saw. "Dean, my roommate is a paramedic and he happened to be responsible for fixing Ronnie up and transporting him."

Dean frowned. "And he's allowed to tell you about it?"

Cas laughed. "Gabe doesn't give a shit about the rules," he answered. "He does whatever he thinks is right and lets the pieces fall, and everyone here loves him for it. However, it was not technically a violation of anything because all he told me directly was that he had an awful day having to take care of a spoiled brat who was trying to convince his audience that he needed a medivac when all that was wrong with him was a broken nose."

Dean thought about it. "I mean, I don't know what that means for me, though," he admitted finally. "What does that say about me, you know? I put a kid in the hospital in a blind rage, but at least he was just a little brat?"

Cas sighed again and tentatively curved an arm around Dean's slumped shoulders. "This is probably way out of line, but I think you need to hear it," he said decisively.

"What?" Dean asked, barely reacting.

Cas took a deep breath and braced himself for incoming rage. "I'm sorry that your dad beat you when you came out, but protecting your brother does not mean that you're turning into him," he blurted out in a torrent of words.

Dean shivered and turned to Cas again, a dangerous look in his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said in a low voice.

Cas shrugged. "Maybe not, but it sounds true to me," he said.

Dean held his gaze defiantly for a few moments before slumping again in defeat. "Whatever." He slowly started to inch out of Cas's arm.

Cas held on tighter. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked in surprise

Dean shrugged. "You know how many issues I have now. Obviously nothing here is never going to work out because I'm kind of incredibly fucked up, if you somehow missed that memo."

Cas frowned. "Dean Winchester, don't tell me what to do with my love life! If I want to keep going, your past is not going to stop me!"

Dean sighed. "It isn't my past that haunts me anymore; it's the fact that I have no future."

Cas shook his head vehemently.

"Okay, look, this is totally strange for me," he said suddenly, "because I have never ever done this before in my life, but I can't get you out of my mind and I can't stand the idea of ever not having you around. Not gonna lie, I was a little worried that Walker would win just because he's on the side of the law, even though he isn't one of them, really. And I can't believe how completely right it feels to just be here next to you. Please, Dean, let me be part of your future?"

Dean faced Cas fully and tilted his head. "You and Sammy would be it. You'd be my future," he said evenly.

Cas smiled softly and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Dean's trembling lips. "Maybe I'm okay with that," he said against Dean's mouth.

Dean let himself relax into the kiss. "Okay," he agreed.

"Uncle Bobby?" Sam came down the steps hesitantly thirty minutes after Crowley had left.

"What's up, squirt?" Bobby asked, adopting one of the few nicknames that Dean was willing to share (not that Bobby even had any interest in calling his nephew "bitch").

"Well, it's just that Dean's been gone for a really long time, and I'm kind of worried about him. I know he needed to clear his head and everything, but what if he isn't okay? What if he," Sam trailed off.

Bobby sighed. "Come 'ere, Sam," he held out an arm and hugged Sam close to his side. "Listen, I just found out from Crowley that since Dean is allowed to stay here and Jody, uh, or, the Sheriff is giving Deputy Walker an ultimatum, the Walkers are moving out of town to be closer to their family. Apparently Gordon has had a job offer from some place that he's interested in, and this was just the shove to get him going."

Sam frowned. "So what does that mean?"

Bobby shrugged. "Would Dean ever get violent with anyone who wasn't hurting you?" he asked.

Sam shook his head rapidly.

"Well then, you don't have to worry about him ever getting locked up again. The only people who would ever want to hurt you, and god knows why even they would, are gone."

Sam breathed out a sigh of relief then frowned. "Uncle Bobby?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Can I go find Dean anyway? His head should be clear enough now, don't you think?"

Bobby smiled and nodded. "Go on. Tell him we're going out for dinner and he needs to get his skinny behind home before we leave if he wants to eat anything that isn't leftovers tonight."

Sam giggled. "Okay!"

He ran out the screen door giddily and let it slam behind him without remorse.

Bobby walked over to inspect the nonexistent damage and shook his head. "Boys will be boys," he muttered. "Do they have to be so loud, though?"

Meanwhile, Sam was skipping down the sidewalk happily, Bobby having lifted every care from his shoulders.

The last thing he had expected when he saw Dean's jacket on the ground was to see his brother locked in a kiss with a guy he had never seen before, and apparently enjoying it.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked hesitantly. "Dinner?"

Dean's head snapped back. "Sammy?"

Sam doubled over laughing. "Okay, be honest," he demanded. "Did you respond to your name or to 'dinner'?"

Dean rolled his eyes and subtly put some distance between him and Cas, despite how completely useless it was at this point.

"Sammy, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm looking for you!" Sammy exclaimed, still giggling a little.

Cas couldn't help but smile back at the bundle of energy (if insufferable cock block) that was apparently Dean's little brother.

"You must be Sam?" he asked from his seat on the transformer. Sam nodded his head affirmatively. "I'm Cas. Nice to meet you."

Sam nodded again in lieu of an answer. "Are you Dean's boyfriend?" he asked.

Dean winced. "Sammy," he warned.

"What? You always told me not to kiss anyone unless I really liked them, and you obviously really like Cas or else you're a great big liar. I just want to know if he likes you too or if I need to beat him up to defend your honor!" Sam answered innocently.

Dean buried his face in his hands, but it did nothing to conceal his blush. "Sammy," he groaned.

Cas laughed softly beside him (until a well-placed elbow to the ribs shut that distraction up). "Don't worry, Sam. I do really like him, and I would like nothing more than to be his boyfriend, if that's alright with you?"

Sam thought it over and then nodded. "You seem decent. Don't change that and we won't have any problems."

Cas nodded solemnly. "Deal. Uh, Dean? How about your thoughts?"

Dean lifted his face from his hands and looked at Cas questioningly. Apparently he found his answer, because his face lit up. "I'd love to, Cas!"

Sam beamed and thoughtfully turned away to avoid losing his lunch before they went to dinner, considering the way both boys were now lip locked again.

"Are we going to tell Bobby over dinner? OH! We're already going out to dinner, we should bring Cas and celebrate!"

Dean winced again. "Um, can we not tell Bobby just yet, squirt?" He carefully avoided Cas's gaze for the duration of the question.

Sam nodded wisely. "Yeah. We can wait a little bit."

Dean turned back to Cas hesitantly. "I'm sorry, is that a deal breaker?"

Cas smiled understandingly. "So you aren't out to your uncle yet. I understand completely. Listen to me, okay? The only deal breaker in this relationship is if you don't want to be in it anymore."

Dean nodded in amazement. "Okay," he agreed.

Sam grinned. "Sweet! Finally! Dean has a boyfriend, whoop dee doo, can we please go eat now?"

Dean and Cas laughed and separated slowly. "Fine," Dean agreed, grabbing his jacket.

Cas nodded. "I'll see you later?"

Dean grinned. "Of course you will, you goober!"

Cas broke into a wide smile. "You will regret that," he promised.

Dean smirked. "I doubt it. Later, Cas," he replied quietly.

Cas nodded gently. "Later, beautiful."

Sam made fake puking noises in the background, which both boys ignored.

"Stop talking to yourself, Cas," Dean muttered.

Cas frowned then smirked back. "Whatever. I'll have you believing it soon."

Dean grinned. "You're on, dream boat."

"Good morning, beautiful," Cas whispered with a smile as Dean rolled over and grunted.

"Stop talking to yourself, Cas," Dean breathed, barely awake. Then he woke up with a start. "Wait, no, this is my room. No, no, you have to go, like now. Cas, you have to-"

He broke off desperately as the door swung open and a fourteen year old body was launched directly onto the bed and right on top of Cas.

"Deeeeeee!" Sam giggled, then sat back sharply. "Um, not Dee?"

Dean and Cas both laughed, and Sam socked Dean in the shoulder. "You just let me do that?"

Dean shrugged. "I tried to get him out of here," he offered.

"Is he going to stay for breakfast? Are you going to introduce him to Bobby as your boyfriend?" Sam teased.

Dean shuddered. "And get thrown out on my freaking birthday?"

Cas turned toward him quickly. "It's your birthday, babe?" he asked quietly. "I wish I'd known!"

Dean shrugged. "It's not a big deal. If Bobby hadn't said something last night, I wouldn't have remembered myself."

"And you weren't thinking about it when you asked me over?"

"Suffice it to say, I was a little distracted," Dean hissed back, flushing red.

"Samuel, tell your brother to get his freaking ass down here so we can eat some food," Bobby bellowed up the stairs, and Sam giggled.

"But, Bobby!" Dean called back. "It's my birthday!"

"Fine, starve! See if I care!" Bobby shot back.

"So he's in the dining room," Dean explained to Cas in a low voice. "You know the drill."

Cas nodded and between the two Winchesters, they managed to keep Bobby distracted long enough for Cas to slip out unnoticed.

"Pie for breakfast?" Dean asked excitedly as he finally focused on the table.

Bobby allowed a rare smile to cross his face. "Only for today, though, so it better be gone by tomorrow!" he warned.

"Oh, there will not be a problem with that!" Dean assured him heartily. In his mind, the only thing that could make this any more perfect would be if Cas was sitting across from him right now with a disapproving look on his face, motioning toward the fruit and inclining his head seriously as if he thought Dean would actually eat fruit over pie.

But, again, it was Cas, so Dean found himself eating a full serving of fruit between slices of pie, much to Bobby's confusion and Sam's infinite amusement.


	5. Chapter 5

"So do you want to, like, go somewhere?" Dean asked. He and Cas were holding hands loosely, sitting on Cas's bed, but otherwise, they weren't really talking or touching much.

"Not really," Cas admitted.

"Okay." Dean flopped back onto the bed and spread his arms.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked, confused, but amused against his will at his occasionally idiotic boyfriend.

"I like your bed! It's super bouncy and still totally soft and supportive," Dean gushed, bouncing up and down to prove his point.

"Glad you like it. I got it to match my new boyfriend," Cas replied absently.

Dean smirked and rolled completely over, or tried to. He hadn't calculated quite right, so he ended up more on top of Cas than beside him, like he'd planned.

"What do you want, babe?" Cas asked, a tiny laugh escaping him as he slipped out from under his boyfriend before he could get squished.

Dean sat up and grabbed his hands. "I wanna know what's wrong," he said seriously. "Come on, Cas. You never tell me to come over unless you have plans, and you've missed exactly thirteen possible dirty jokes or lascivious smiles since I've been here. I wanna know what's going on and what I can do to help."

Cas sighed and let Dean pull him closer. He draped his arms around his boyfriend's neck and thought about it for a minute, but in the end, he decided that he could do this.

"Look, I never talk about this, okay? I mean, pretty much everyone knows, but it's old news by now, so they don't really care that much anymore."

"Do you wanna sit down?" Dean asked, imitating Cas's low tone and somber expression.

"Nah," Cas shook his head and moved closer to Dean, tightening his arms imperceptibly. "Okay, so I moved here when I decided not to go to college. I got my job down at the mechanic's and I was doing alright for myself. Meg moved here at the same time as me, so she and Gabe and I have pretty much always been roommates. They're the only ones who really ever hear this."

In a second, it all clicked for Dean. "This is what your nightmares are about," he whispered certainly, pulling Cas onto his lap.

Cas nodded, burying his face in Dean's neck for a moment.

"My parents were on their way up here to surprise me." His voice took on a monotone quality, almost as if it were computerized.

"Hey, Cas," Dean shook him gently. "It's me. It's okay."

Cas shivered and his breathing hitched. Dean reflexively curled his arms around him more protectively and kissed everything he could reach.

"There was an accident," Cas continued through layers of unexposed emotions. "It was raining and dark, and there was a sharp turn, and I guess my dad just didn't make it. He, uh, they," his voice shook and disappeared. Dean rubbed his back and shoulder and felt his own heart constrict as the tears, a testament to Cas's pain, rolled down his neck and soaked his shirt.

"I've got you, love. I'm right here," Dean whispered gently as Cas began to sob uncontrollably. "You don't have to finish. I'm so sorry, love. So sorry."

He continued holding his boyfriend for what felt like forever, just imparting all the comfort he could while experiencing innumerable pangs at the immeasurable pain that his boyfriend was experiencing.

Eventually, Cas's breathing evened out, and he was asleep, only broken by the occasional shuddering inhale.

Dean, well acquainted with emotional episodes, knew how exhausted he had to be, and he carefully settled back in the bed, holding Cas comfortably in his arms, and let his body relax. They might as well get some rest now, since they'd probably be up for hours that night, talking about this whole thing.

He was a little concerned and a little proud because he had never seen Cas this vulnerable (when he was completely awake), and he knew that the other boy's insecurities had to all be waking up now. The last thing he would dream of doing was leaving him alone right now.

He never ended up getting any sleep, but he did relax when Cas's breathing finally completely evened out and the creases in his forehead eased.

Gabe had softly opened the door at some point, but when he saw where the boys were, he had nodded at Dean approvingly and shut the door again.

Finally, Cas stirred and woke up slowly.

"You're still here?" he asked groggily, patting Dean's chest with his hand (he hadn't quite gotten around to opening his eyes yet).

"I'd never leave you angel," Dean answered quietly.

"Promise?" Cas asked, burrowing his face into Dean's shirt.

"As long as you'll have me, love," Dean promised. "Now, come on. I think Gabe needs to make sure you're okay."

He gently pulled his clingy boyfriend out into the living room and sat him on the sofa so that Gabe could take his turn fussing over him and holding him. Dean was fixing him some food. It may not cure all ills, but it would make sure that his boyfriend would be around for a while. At this point, he was pretty sure that it would ruin both of them if this ever ended.

He was determined not to let that happen.

"Hey, kid," someone was running up behind Sam in the hallway. He instinctively ducked, but nothing was thrown at him, and he wasn't shoved. Surprised, he turned around to meet his assailant.

"You?" he asked in disgust upon realizing that the other kid was that one gay guy he'd stood up for and gotten beaten up over without a word of thanks.

The kid shrugged sheepishly. "Look, around here, no one fights your battles for you unless they really want something in return. I'm sorry I was a jerk, but I really thought that you had to have had some kind of ulterior motive."

Sam frowned at the simplistic explanation. "How old are you, kid?" he asked.

"I'm thirteen," the kid answered easily.

"Just turned thirteen?"

"Yeah. My name's Adam, by the way." The kid stuck out his hand expectantly.

Cursing his inherent good nature, Sam accepted it. "Sam. Nice to meet you."

"Really?" Adam asked in surprise.

Sam shrugged. "Call it a total do over, okay?"

"That works!" A bright smile lit up the kid's face, and for a split second, Sam had an idea of what it meant to be a big brother. "Thanks, Sam!"

"Hey, no problem, Adam. Where are you headed anyway? I don't know any thirteen year olds taking classes in the high school wing."

"I was looking for you," Adam admitted. "I just felt really bad because I hurt your feelings and all you were trying to do was help me out, so I wanted to come and apologize."

"Well thanks, Adam," Sam grinned, slinging an arm across his shoulders. "Now let's get you back to where you're supposed to be, huh?"

"That sounds good," Adam agreed, happily.


	6. Chapter 6

"Um, Bobby?" Dean asked, cautiously, interrupting the man's mad dash around the main floor. "What's going on? Is the state on their way or something? Because the house is spotless. Like, almost uncomfortably clean. I mean, what's the rush?"

Bobby stared at Dean for a second before saying, "You're a guy."

Dean suddenly understood what "flummoxed" meant as he gaped at his uncle. "Yes, I am," he finally managed, regaining his usual composure. "What gave it away?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, you're a guy, so you see things like a guy. Sure, we both think the house looks fine, but what would a woman think?"

Dean shook his head. "Are you expecting a woman to see the inside of this house anytime today?" he asked. "Because I can arrange to be out," he offered with a smirk.

Bobby flushed and muttered something about disrespectful idjits. "No, I'm not," he answered shortly.

Dean frowned. "Then why does it matter?" His brain attempted to solve the intriguing puzzle with no success.

"Because, I'd know," Bobby ground out. "You know what, nevermind. Don't worry your pretty head about it. Did you need something?"

Dean frowned and took a long look at his uncle.

"What?" Bobby snapped.

Dean smirked back. "Bobby Singer, your hair is combed nicely, you shaved, and your shirt is buttoned all the way up! And, oh my, are those your Sunday boots?" He'd never understood why the man had a pair of Sunday boots since they never went to church, but it was all beginning to add up.

"So?" Bobby questioned.

"So," Dean drawled. "Who's the lucky lady?"

Bobby's pink cheeks flushed even darker. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

Dean laughed delightedly. "Oh, so you mean to tell me that you aren't getting all dressed up for a lovely lunch date with the future Mrs. Singer?" he teased.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Fine. I may have invited a very nice lady to eat lunch with me, and that lunch may be happening today, and we may be considering it a date, but that's it. I'm not telling you who she is, I'm not telling you where we're going, it isn't serious, and you will stop implying that I'm about to propose," he finally admitted, voice growing in agitation as he continued.

Dean stepped back, hands in the air and a megawatt smile on his face. "No problem, Bobby. I just wanted to make sure we both knew what was going on!"

He ran back up the stairs at the look on his guardian's face, ducking as a pillow flew past him. He was still laughing when he got to his room and fell onto his bed, suddenly struck by an idea.

He grabbed his phone and sent a quick message, a softer smile playing around his mouth. Within minutes, he got a reply that brightened his smile, and as soon as Bobby's car was out of sight, Dean slipped out the door and began to walk down the sidewalk with just more excitement than nerves.

"Glad you made it, Bobby," she greeted him warmly, and he had to focus on greeting her verbally instead of just his trademark grunt.

"You look nice," he offered, taking a moment to appreciate the truth of that statement.

She smiled gently. "I know small talk isn't your favorite. Let's just get some food, huh?" she offered, grabbing his arm and letting him lead her into the small, cozy diner.

To his surprise, the table beside theirs was occupied by strangers. He braced himself for the usual pleasantries, but was completely blown away when the (very stereotypically gay) couple completely monopolized his date, gushing over her complexion, her outfit, and her snark.

She shot him an apologetic look, but the Sheriff couldn't very well completely antagonize newcomers, and they both knew that, so she endured their fawning.

The highlight of the "date" for Bobby was hearing that they were just passing through and stopped to get a bite to eat and stretch their legs in this "absolutely darling little town."

"Dean! You made it!" The countless mini heart attacks he'd endured, second guessing his very impulsive decision were officially worth it to see that pleased smile on his boyfriend's face.

"Of course I made it, angel! I wouldn't stand you up," he answered easily as if he hadn't considered it exactly twenty-seven times during his fifteen minute walk.

From the look on Cas's face, he was going to call bullshit, and Dean levelled him with a stare, daring him to call his bluff and give him a reason to chicken out.

Softening his expression, Cas wiped his hands on a cloth and stepped up to Dean, looking around quickly to make sure there were no spectators before pressing a gentle but firm kiss to his nervous boyfriend's lips.

Dean relaxed slightly and smiled sheepishly. "Am I that easy to read?" he asked.

Cas smirked. "I'd like to think that you're always dying to be kissed by me, but quite frankly dear, yes, it was painfully obvious that you needed a reminder that I won't ditch you for being afraid of rejection."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Dear? Where did that one even come from?"

Cas shrugged. "Won't use it again then, babe. C'mon, let's get out of here."

They walked to the office together, close enough that their hands continually brushed each other, but very purposefully not holding hands.

"Hey Benny?" Cas asked, catching the attention of the tough man rifling through a folder while talking to a customer on the phone. "I'm gonna take my lunch now, okay?"

Benny looked up and nodded before going back to whatever he was doing. Cas smirked and led the way back out of the shop.

"What was that look for?" Dean asked.

"Oh, I'm just really glad that he's the one who gets to deal with him today," Cas answered lightly.

"Dare I ask?"

"Oh, he's just an incredibly painful customer who refuses to bring his car in until we've diagnosed the problem and given him an accurate and acceptable quote," Cas laughed.

"How do you diagnose a problem without the car?" Dean asked slowly.

"Exactly," Cas continued laughing easily. "We have to keep a file of the condition of every part of his car so we can make him demonstrate the noises it's making and then make an educated guess. We've always been right so far, which is honestly rather flattering."

"Yeah, and so are those jeans," Dean commented easily, slapping a hand over his mouth at his boyfriend's surprised expression. "Oh no, did I say that out loud?"

"Oh yes," Cas smirked suggestively. "So now that I know exactly what you're thinking," he left his sentence hanging with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Dean shook his head. "What's got you in such a good mood anyway? I think it's rubbing off on me."

"If I have it my way, it won't be the only thing doing so," Cas quipped. "Aw come on, you had to known that was coming!"

"Unlike you, since you're determined to keep this up," Dean countered.

Cas froze and turned to face his boyfriend with a fake hurt expression. "Dean Winchester, you can't mean what I think you do," he moaned dramatically.

"I do," Dean responded with mock seriousness. "I'll be feeding you and sending you right back to work with no funny business interspersed."

Cas sighed and dropped his eyes, letting his lower lip pout and begin to tremble.

"Hey, angel, hey, come on now," Dean began to hurriedly amend the situation, unsure of how to do so since he sure as hell was not about to kiss that look off his boyfriend's face on the corner of Main Street.

Cas appeared to realize this and quickly fixed his face. "Hey, no worries," he assured Dean. "I just forgot where we were, that's all."

Dean heaved a sigh of relief. "Bakery then?" he suggested.

Cas rolled his eyes. "Only you could manage to talk me into pie for lunch," he said affectionately.

Dean gasped. "I hadn't even considered it, but that's a fantastic idea, Cas!" he teased, ignoring his boyfriend's second eye roll and leading him toward the bakery where they did, in fact, have pie for lunch.

The only strain on the day happened when they were walking back to the garage and passed the diner just as Bobby was coming out.

Dean didn't see him at first and looked up to see his uncle sporting a furious expression. He dropped his head quickly and walked past, stiffening as he heard Bobby muttering angrily about "fucking faggots" and how their very presence ruined his whole day, his rant accented with colorful, anger-fueled invectives.

By the time they were out of earshot, Dean was shaking imperceptibly, and his eyes were starting to blur.

"Dean?" Cas asked gently as soon as they were around the corner, placing a supportive hand on his lower back.

Dean sniffled quietly. "I guess I should have seen it coming," he murmured hollowly.

Cas reached out his other hand to catch the tears threatening to fall, and Dean jerked away angrily.

"Don't touch me," he hissed. "It's bad enough that he's probably going to send me away from Sammy, and you can't convince me that he won't! You heard what he said!"

"I did hear him," Cas answered evenly, a little hurt that Dean had jerked away like that. "But Dean, he never even looked at us. I think it was about something else, babe."

Dean turned to look at him, expression thunderous. "So, what? You want me to ignore it like it never happened so I'll get you off one last time before I never get to see my brother again? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Cas frowned. That had gone completely wrong way too fast. "Dean, you have to listen to me! He's not going to send you away, he didn't even see you, and I'm not just trying to make you feel better for sex! You know I'm not like that!"

"You're not the kind of person who lies to my face either, Cas, but you know he was talking about us! Who else could he have meant? He was coming out of the diner, for fuck's sake! This is the straightest town in the whole Western Hemisphere so it's not like he met a gay couple in there!"

Cas stepped back, hands up. "Dean, you need to calm down," he tried again with no success.

"Oh, I need to calm down now? Why's that? Because you want to feed me more lies that will leave me unprepared? You forget, Castiel, I've been used and manipulated and blindsided my whole life. It's going to take a whole lot more than that to fake me out!"

Cas frowned and changed tactics, stepping forward and pressing a crushing kiss against Dean's lips until the other boy finally backed down and began to relax slightly. Pulling back just enough to talk, Cas met Dean's eyes firmly. "I am not your father, and I am not about to let you convince yourself that you aren't worth the fight. And until you believe that I am not going to let you just disappear without fighting tooth and nail to get you back, I'm not letting go of you, babe."

"Your lunch break is almost over," Dean pointed out mechanically.

"You're more important than a time card," Cas answered, completely seriously.

Dean froze for a second, reading the truth in Cas's blue eyes before his face crumpled and he dropped his head to his boyfriend's shoulder, crying hard.

Cas rubbed his back gently and held him until he was calm again. When he tried to pull back, shame burning through his body, Cas pulled him closer.

"Do you believe me now, babe?" he whispered into Dean's hair, placing a gentle kiss there as well just because he could.

Dean drew a shaky breath and nodded. "I think I do, Cas," he answered quietly.

Cas smiled softly. "So if I let go of you, you aren't going to think I'm upset or ashamed?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, and Cas sighed.

"Dean, it's okay if you do. I'll just have to keep reminding you, as long as it takes."

"What if I never understand?" Dean asked in a small voice.

Cas pulled him tight again and smiled. "Then I'll have an excuse to stay with you forever, babe."

Dean hugged him back for a minute before stepping back, and this time Cas let him go.

"You have to get back to work, and I have to face the music. Even if you're right, he's pissed about something, and I'd rather let him vent before Sammy gets back," Dean said, sounding almost normal again.

Cas nodded. "I'll see you tonight, darlin. Call me if you need anything."

Dean nodded and hesitated.

With a lovingly exasperated sigh, Cas pulled him close for a kiss goodbye and then let him go.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I'm so sorry it's been so long. I got kicked out of my house in August, and I think I finally got myself on stable ground again, financially and mentally. Anyway, the story is fully written, so I'm not abandoning it, it just takes me a while to update it when I can't find my computer charger in the rest of my earthly belongings. Found it, though, so here goes! Chapter 7, everyone! Thanks for sticking with me, don't forget to review!

* * *

Dean tossed and turned and could not fall asleep all night. Bobby's words kept replaying in his head like a living nightmare.

"It's like the entire town has a bad aftertaste after seeing two fucking faggots in it."

He could feel a phantom hand tousling his hair to reassure him, and he saw Sammy's wide, worried eyes. The same eyes that were now peeking into his room.

"Dee?" Sammy whispered.

Dean did not even bother answering; he just rolled over and opened his arms. Sammy catapulted into them and burrowed his face into Dean's shoulder.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" he asked, rubbing the kid's shoulder soothingly and pressing a light, manly kiss to the top of his head.

In lieu of an answer, Sammy wrapped his arms around Dean and held on tighter.

Dean sighed, recognizing this behavior, and began gently rocking back and forth, rubbing Sammy's shoulder and softly crooning "Hey Jude" in a barely audible sleepy tone.

Sammy's breathing hitched, and the next thing he knew, there were floods of tears soaking the front of his shirt, so he wrapped his arms around his brother comfortingly, and switched the song from the Beatles to a better song for the mood. It hurt sometimes to remember that Sammy had no clue why Dean found that song so soothing. Metallica worked for Sam, though, so he half-sang, half-hummed through the same verse and chorus over and over.

Eventually, the flood began to let up, and Dean was left with a shaking, occasionally whimpering mess in his arms. He sat up slowly and gently lifted Sam onto his lap. Sam immediately went spider monkey, wrapping himself around Dean as far as he could and pressing so close that they couldn't have fit a piece of paper between them.

The only part that worried Dean was that he was hiding his face the whole time.

"Hey there, Sammy," he muttered gently, continuing to rock. "Look at me, buddy. Come one, just pick your head up. I'm worried about you, kid. I want to make sure you're okay. Come on, Sammy."

Sam shook his head with an anxious whimper. He buried his face deeper into Dean's t shirt and shook even harder.

Dean frowned and tightened his hold on his baby brother. "Hey, Sammy? Listen to me, alright. I don't know what's going on in that gigantic, mega smart head of yours, but you need to remember that I'm never going to leave you, okay? No matter what happens, I'll be right here. There is absolutely nothing in the whole world that could make you want to like you any less, and you could never ever do anything to make me angry enough to leave you. There is nothing in the entire world, the entire universe, or all of time that would I put in front of you."

Sammy shifted. "But I don't want you to not be happy, Dean," he whispered hoarsely, still hiding his face.

"As long as you are safe, I'll be happy, Sam," Dean assured him, wondering where in the world all of this was coming from. "I promise. You're all that matters."

Sam sniffed and shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't loosed his hold, so neither did dean. Dean rested his head on top of Sam's and sighed deeply. "What is it, Squirt?"

"What if Bobby finds out about Cas and we can't live here anymore?" Sam whispered hesitantly, pulling back in on himself as soon as he finished speaking.

Dean froze. "What are you talking about, Kid?"

"When I got home from school, you were still at work, and Bobby was complaining, and I don't think he wants any gay people around him, Dee. It scared me. You know that you'd leave me here in an instant if it came down to it, and I don't want to lose you, but," he trailed off, picking absently at a loose thread.

Dean pulled Sammy in closer instinctively as he struggled to say the words that he knew were true. "You don't want to leave. Course you don't. First real home you've had, you never want to lose it, right? That's what normal is supposed to feel like, Squirt. Congrats, you just achieved your lifelong dream."

Sam burrowed closer. "And when Bobby finds out? I don't want to lose you and I don't want to leave, and I don't know what to do, Dee. I want you to stay here and both of us to be happy for once!"

"If Bobby really feels the way he said, then he'll never find out," Dean promised, ignoring the ache in his chest as he spoke. "If Cas has a problem with that, we can't be together. It's just that simple, Sammy. I told you I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize you being safe, and if this is a safe place for you, I'll make sure that you stay forever if that's what you want!"

"Not just me, Dean," Sammy pleaded immediately, pulling back and looking up at Dean with big, soulful eyes. "Please?"

Dean sighed and pushed back the overwhelming ache in his heart as he met his brother's gaze. "I promise. I'll make sure that I can stay with you too. I'm not leaving, Sammy. I promise I won't leave you."

"Ever?" Half of him wanted Sam to hide his face again because the pure desperation on his baby brother's face, hardly concealing the terror beneath it, was too much to look into. He could never say that, though, so he steeled himself and made a promise that he hoped he'd never regret.

"Ever. It's just you and me, baby boy." He managed a half grin, and was relieved to see Sam's face light up ever so subtly in response.

"Now come on, let's get some sleep," he patted the mattress beside him, and Sam immediately complied, rolling off of him and resting his head on the pillow, although he still didn't let go.

Dean realized he was truly exhausted, and he had a feeling that with his brother safe and sound beside him, he would never have the nightmares that normally kept him up. He stretched out, one arm flung loosely around Sam in a caring fashion.

"Going to sleep, buddy?" he asked, looking into Sam's wide open eyes.

Sam obediently drooped his eye lids and let out a long breath. "Dean? Can you tell me a story?" he begged. Usually, Dean cursed their father excessively and at length for damaging his baby brother's emotional state, but every once in a while, it wasn't so bad that Sammy acted more like a four year old than a fourteen year old. For one thing, it made him easier to take care of when he wasn't insisting that "I'm practically a grown man, Dean. I can walk myself to school, thank you very much." So despite wishing they'd never had to experience the trauma, Dean didn't begrudge these moments at all.

He smiled softly. "Yes, my little high schooler, I will tell you a story. Let me guess. Pirates?"

Sam giggled softly. "Yes, please?"

Dean used his free hand to stroke Sam's longish hair. "Alright, then. Since you asked for it."

He launched into a magnificent story about how there were these two brothers, and they were pirates, and they always took care of each other. They sailed the high seas and spoke all sorts of pirate talk, but they never, ever hurt anybody. In fact, they earned their living by charging other ships for letting them protect their cargo or passengers. One day, the older pirate met a beautiful ship captain, and he never wanted to lose sight of him, so he strayed away from their normal course and continued following the other ship. The younger brother didn't worry, because he knew that the older, wiser brother (Dean "oof"-ed as Sam elbowed him in the ribs sleepily) would always steer him right and would never lead him into danger. When they finally caught up to the other ship, the captain said that he had been watching the pirate too, and he had been hoping that they would catch him. The pirates left their ship for the first time in forever, and they climbed ashore with the beautiful captain who taught them how to make an honest living. One day, the older pirate asked the captain to marry him, and when he said yes, they lived happily ever after.

"The younger pirate too?" Sam drawled, mostly asleep.

"Yep, buddy, the younger pirate too. Sweet dreams, bitch."

Sam's lips moved, but his (arguably) appropriate response never made it out before he was sound asleep.

His own nightmares banished, Dean followed him easily.

* * *

 _D: we need 2 talk. now._

 _C: b there in 5._

Dean made his way to the transformer, anxiety like lead in his shoes.

"Emergency?" Cas asked.

Dean shook his head.

"Time crunch?"

"No more than usual."

"Come here, then," Cas hopped up on the transformer and held his arm out. Dean willingly slipped up next to him and curled against his side.

"What's up, babe?" Cas asked, addressing the obvious tension in his partner.

"So you know how I'm eighteen now?" Dean started hesitantly.

Cas grinned. "Oh, yeah!"

Dean playfully shoved him. "That isn't what I meant!" That had been great, of course, once it actually happened. Dean's anxiety had stopped them a few times, but Cas had taken care of him every time, and when he was ready, Cas made it perfect for him. And then did it again and again. At this point, they slept in the same bed almost every night.

"What did you mean, then?" Cas asked, sobering slightly.

"Well, if I'm a legal adult, then my uncle doesn't have any legal obligations to support me. Hypothetically speaking," Dean trailed off, the lump in his throat growing.

Cas hurried to interject, "He wouldn't kick you out, babe! Besides, you could always come stay with us! Gabe and Meg wouldn't mind splitting the rent four ways, and you wouldn't even need an extra bedroom, so don't worry about anything!"

Dean sighed. "Thanks for that," he said, kissing Cas's collarbone. "I just couldn't stay here if he wouldn't let me see Sammy."

"Why wouldn't he let you see your brother, Dean?"

"I might corrupt him, Cas," Dean muttered bitterly. "I might turn him gay if he hangs out around me. Forget that when he was actually worried that I would hate him for being straight, I supported him completely and learned how to talk about girls." Both boys smiled at that memory, then Dean continued. "No, if he ever found out about me or us, I would be out on my ass in seconds! You don't know the things he says!"

Cas frowned. "Why don't I know the things he says? You tell me everything else, and this is obviously hurting you. Why are you holding it in?"

Dean shifted. "He's usually talking about you," he admitted in a low voice. "Even when I try to tell him that I don't like hearing him talking about my friends like that, he just says that if you didn't want people to judge your lifestyle, you shouldn't have chosen it. I tried to argue that it wasn't exactly your choice, and he called bullshit. Look, it isn't just me. Sammy's getting worried, and I can't keep giving him empty promises that I will never, ever desert him if there's actually a substantial, reasonable doubt. I just don't know what to do, Cas! I can't take Sammy away from there because it's the only stable home he's ever known. I can't leave you because you're my everything, as long as Sammy is good. And I can't tell my uncle. But the more we keep this secret, the more likely he is to hear about it, and I'm just terrified, and I don't know what to do, and I really just want you to kiss me and tell me that I'm all worked up over nothing. Can you please just do that?"

Cas curled his arm around Dean's shoulders protectively. "As much as I'd love to, you were right. We need to talk about this."

Dean sighed and sat up straight, shrugging Cas's arm off. "Sorry, if we're talking, I need to think clearly," he explained.

Cas nodded. "I understand, Dean."

"Where do you want to start?"

Cas thought for a minute. "Okay, well, what kinds of things is your uncle saying?"

Dean sighed again. "He talks about how you're incapable of a monogamous relationship, and he attributes it to the fact that you also like guys."

"Well you know that that isn't true," Cas answered immediately. "Yes, I'm pansexual; yes, in the past, I have had multiple relationships at the same time, and all of my partners were aware. However, that was my choice, just like you are my choice. And you mean so much more to me than any of the others. You know that, right? I've never been in a relationship like this before."

Dean felt a soft smile play around his lips. "Yeah, I know that," he said gently. "It's just, I have to wonder, you know, if he knew that I was dating you, how many times would he bring up your past and throw it in my face and tell me that I couldn't trust you? I trust you with my life. Hell, I'd trust you with Sam's life, but I don't know if I could handle him constantly saying things like that, you know?"

Cas nodded seriously. "With all due respect to your uncle, Dean, this is our relationship. What we choose to do with it, as long as both partners are willing and safe, is our business, not his. Right?"

"Yeah, I know that," Dean agreed readily. "And on our end, there isn't an issue with any of that, at least that I know of."

Cas shook his head. "I haven't had any problems either, and I trust you to tell me if you have any."

"I do the same. Still, I'm just worried about what might happen, okay? I know it's the same kind of irrational anxiety that Crowley's been talking about, but I can't shake it."

"What about it worries you, babe?" Cas asked gently.

Dean shook his head, his eyes darting around wildly, and his breathing started speeding up. Cas couldn't help it; he reached over and placed his hand on Dean's knee, rubbing his leg gently until Dean began to calm down. He was about to pull his hand back when Dean's hand reached out and held it there. He obeyed the unspoken request and continued rubbing Dean's leg while he spoke.

"I came out to my dad when I was thirteen," Dean began. At Cas's questioning look, he shrugged his shoulders. "He was mad at Sammy, and I had to distract him."

"Honey," Cas murmured, pained.

Dean shook his head. "It was a long time ago. That was the time he broke my jaw slamming me into the carpet."

"How did you explain that one away?"

"Skateboarding," Dean answered offhandedly. "It was one my most believable excuses, actually." He trailed off, trying not to relive the memory.

"Dean?" Cas prodded.

Dean sighed. "It's just, I love Bobby, and I know that he is nothing like John, but they've said a lot of the same things, you know? They both rant about how the gay lifestyle is a taint on society and the reason the world has so many problems. They both frown and go on about how if any son of theirs thinks he can get away with that level of disrespect, they'd better think twice. They both think it's a personal attack on their character to have a gay kid. And you've never seen how angry Bobby can get when his character is questioned. Up until now, he's only thrown out overly nosy and obviously disapproving social workers, but he gets so angry, Cas."

"He would never lift a finger against you, Dean."

"Can you promise that?" Dean demanded. "More importantly, can you promise that if all he does is kick me out, but he's outraged and Sammy goes over to calm him down or to look for some kind of reassurance, he won't hurt my brother?"

Cas frowned, setting aside filling away the "More importantly" for later. Now was not the time to address Dean's self-esteem issues, but he wanted Dean to learn to love himself too. For now, he shook his head, sadly, dreading the direction this conversation was going.

"I can't promise that, Dean, but let me ask you this. If you're worried about Bobby hurting you or your brother, is that really the safest environment for Sam?"

"He likes it here, Cas," Dean answered brokenly.

Cas sighed. "Dean, I don't know what to tell you, okay? I know that going on like this is too stressful for you, though, so we need to do something." Dean nodded, looking miserable, and Cas's heart broke a little. He lifted his free arm around Dean's shoulders again, pulling him close, and Dean didn't pull away this time."

"What if you talk to Gabriel?" Cas suggested.

"Talk about what?" Dean asked.

"Well, he knows about us already, and he also knows Bobby pretty well. Maybe you could ask Gabriel if he thinks it would be a good idea to come out to your uncle."

"Then what?" Dean asked with trepidation.

Cas sighed deeply, but he knew what he had to say. "Your and Sam's safety is my top priority, Dean. This relationship means everything to me, but it won't even be possible if you aren't safe. If Gabriel doesn't think your uncle will take it well, I'll step back so you don't have to carry this relationship around. If Gabriel thinks your uncle will take it well but you decide that he won't, I'll step back. If you decide to tell your uncle, I would love the chance to be your boyfriend in public."

Dean thought it over and decided that he could handle it. "I can talk to Gabriel," he agreed. "How will you know, though?"

"When do you want to talk to Gabe?"

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," Dean promised. "If I wait any longer, I'll lose all my courage, and I'll never do any of it."

"Then tomorrow night, our usual time, I'll come out to the transformer. If you aren't going to talk to your uncle, don't come, and I'll know. If he takes it well, meet me here. If he doesn't, bring Sam. We can put both of you up for long enough for you to talk to Crowley about whether or not you could get custody of Sam."

Dean nodded, leaning farther into the comfort of his boyfriend as he agreed to what could very well destroy both of their lives.

"And if you don't tell him," Cas continued, his voice a little unsteady, "but you still want this to work, meet me here same time, same place, three years from tomorrow."

Dean spontaneously wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and held on tight, unbidden tears streaming down his face. Cas valiantly tried to hold out, but he too succumbed to the emotion of the moment, and for a while, all they did was hold onto each other.

"I don't want to say goodbye," Dean gasped out between shaking sobs, and Cas wasn't in much better shape.

Eventually, Cas tipped Dean's head up and kissed him fervently, desperately. His hands traced every inch of Dean's face, trying to memorize it. Dean just held on for dear life, his knuckles going white where he was clutching Cas's shirt.

But they could only put it off so long.

With a final kiss, Cas stood up from the transformer. He had a sinking feeling that he would never see his boyfriend again, but he didn't say so. Instead, he pasted a smile on his face and looked over to see Dean doing the same.

They clasped each other's hands briefly, smiling brightly, because they knew that was how the other one wanted to remember them.

"Goodbye, beautiful," Cas whispered.

"Goodbye, love," Dean returned in same.

Then it was over, another chapter closed, and as they walked away from each other, they both knew that it would never be the same again.


	8. Chapter 8

_Dear Diary,_

 _Let me tell you a story. It's about a boy (surprise, I know), and it's about me. It's about how he managed to immerse himself into my life effortlessly and how everything that was "mine" became "ours." Except for my heart. That was his and only his. I just wish that either I had realized it sooner or that it had at least been a fair exchange._

 _It's fairly simple, really. I realized that he loved me when he asked to stay forever. I realized I loved him when he left._

Cas put down the pencil then picked it back up and hurled it across his room, quickly followed by the book he'd been writing in. It just wasn't fair!

He'd cheated, he knew that. He'd asked Gabe how it had gone, and Gabe had been overjoyed to tell him that he had managed to convince Dean that Bobby's thoughtless comments had no effect on what he really thought of his nephew.

"So is he going to tell him?" Cas had asked.

"Yeah, he's nervous, but he's going to as soon as Sam gets home from school," Gabe had assured him. "Don't worry. Bobby will be just fine. He's a traditional old coot, but he loves those boys like nothing else."

Then, just before Cas was about to head down to the transformer, Gabe's phone had rung. He'd checked the caller ID, winked at Cas, and said, "Oh, it's Bobby! I'd better answer this!"

Cas had ducked out of the house, trembling with anticipation, and sat on the transformer, internally listing every part of Dean's body that he wanted to kiss. He went from head to toe, first to last, biggest to smallest, and A to Z. It was quite an extensive list, and it was dark by the time he finished all four lists.

Dean wasn't there.

Cas had trudged back to the house in disbelief and when he'd walked in the door, Gabe had pounced on him.

"Hey, Bobby's pissed and said that you better not have invited Dean over for a sleepover now. You didn't, did you? Because it's super awkward when- What's the matter?" Gabe had cut off as Cas's face had crumpled up.

"He didn't come," Cas had whispered brokenly.

It was an hour later that Gabe sat up from their floor coccoon where they'd been watching Cas's favorite movies and looked around suspiciously.

"What?" Cas asked.

"If Dean didn't come to meet you, and he told Bobby that he did, then where the hell did he take Sam?"

Cas paled, his world shifting focus from "he loves me not" to "he might need my help."

He finally understood why people didn't fall in love any more. It just wasn't worth the effort.

* * *

(Earlier, at Bobby's house)

Dean knocked on the door of the bedroom, heart in his hand, nerves on the floor.

"Come in," a gruff voice answered.

Dean walked in, keeping his eyes trained on the floor, and stayed standing near the door.

"Well? What is it?"

He sighed. "Uncle Bobby, there's something that I need to tell you. It's really important to me, and I'm not sure if you'll even approve of it, but I really need you to listen to me all the way through, no matter what, because if you interrupt me, I might not be able to keep going."

"Dean? Are you okay?" the voice lost a bit of its gruffness, replaced with genuine concern.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just need to do this."

"Alright, boy," the other man conceded.

Dean took another deep breath. This had been so much easier when he'd just blurted it out to his dad and gotten beaten to a bloody pulp for it! Right now, he had no clue what to expect, and it was playing havoc on his entire body.

"Uh, you see, the thing is, I'm kind of in a relationship right now, but I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid of how you might respond. I wasn't sure that it was going to last at first, but now I know more than anything that I really want it to, so you might need to know about it. The thing is, I've never really told anyone about this before, at least not like this," he started talking faster, stumbling over his words, as his breathing sped up and his eyes began to sting. "I really don't know what to expect here, so I'm sorry. I guess I'll just start with that. I know that you have plans and things for me and Sammy, and I'm about to ruin all of them, and possibly even hurt you in the process. I'm not trying to do that, I'm really not. Believe me, I tried to not be like this. I wanted to be like you, hell, even like dad. But I can't, Bobby, this is who I am, I just can't stop it, and now I've actually managed to be happy, and I'm just terrified that it might have to stop because I can't let you down, Bobby. I don't know what-" his voice broke off, and he slumped back against the door, body shaking with sobs.

Immediately, two scrawny arms wrapped around him and Sammy was draped around him in an attempt to offer the same comfort that Dean usually did for him.

"Jesus, Dean, it's just me! I already know that you're gay! This is just a practice round! It isn't supposed to be so bad!" Sammy said, his voice back to normal now.

Dean just shook harder. "Sammy," he gasped out, reaching blindly for his brother, who immediately placed his hand in his. Dean just held on and rocked back and forth for a few minutes.

Sam had never seen Dean like this before. When John came home, Dean took his punishment with closed lips and the occasional outcry. When it got too bad, Dean passed out. He never broke down like this. He was always the strong one, and now Sam had no idea what to do to fix this whole screwed up situation.

"De, it's going to be okay, I promise," he begged and pleaded for Dean to calm down and listen to reason. "You know Crowley would call this irrational. It's perfectly normal, and I get it, okay. You know I get it." Dean squeezed his hand in response, and it heartened Sam to realize that his brother hadn't completely checked out.

"You know Bobby won't do anything to either of us, De," he carried on in the soothing tone Dean used when Sam had a nightmare. "The worst he'll do is take a few days to get used to it, but he loves you more than you give him credit for! He loves you, Dean, and I love you, and neither of us are going to let you get hurt! I promise! I won't let him hurt you!"

"No, Sammy," Dean managed, squeezing just a bit harder for a second. "You don't get to promise that, Sammy. You don't ever get to get hurt, baby boy."

Sam knew better than to challenge Dean's desperate beg, he just held onto his brother and kept talking.

"I know you're always going to take care of me, De. I know that almost better than I know my own name. I remember you taking care of me more than I remember anything else from when I was little."

"You're still little," Dean answered in a tight, but mostly normal voice.

Sam smiled brightly. He almost had his brother back. "You're going to be fine, De. You're going to tell Bobby the news that will absolutely rock his world, and then you're going to turn around and walk out of there, out and proud, and go hug and kiss your boyfriend."

He felt Dean's anxiety begin to lift when he mentioned Cas, and he laughed. "You two are so sickeningly sweet! Seriously, I'll be fine, so if you can't do this for you, go do it for Cas!"

Dean wrapped his arm around his brother and briefly bro hugged him. "Thanks, Squirt," he whispered, standing up and holding out his arm for Sam to grab.

"Any time, jerk. Now, go on! Shoo! Knock 'em dead, Shakespeare!" Sam pushed Dean out of his room and stuck his tongue out when he turned around.

Dean rolled his eyes at the immature display. "Whatever, bitch."

Sam laughed and closed the door so he could get started on his homework. He worked on algebra for twenty minutes before he gave up. Pulling out his cellphone, he sent a new text to Jessica, one of the girls in his math class.

 _S: Someone should tell Elmwood that functions are a pain in the ass(ymptote)._

 _J: LOL u r funny, Sam! Seriously though, is there even any point to this?_

 _S: I think he just likes to see us suffering, to be honest._

 _J: Do you think he plots ways to really make it hurt? Like, assigning problem 15?_

 _S: That's the only logical assumption, clearly_

 _J: Haha well I have to go help my mom with dinner. Good luck! Compare answers tomorrow?_

 _S: Sure, but no promises on completion!_

With a grin on his face, he ran down the stairs to check on Dean and Bobby, just in time to hear Bobby say, "Of course I don't care, ya idjit! Date whoever the hell you want to date, and as long as you're happy with him, I don't give a shit! Now go get your brother so that he can join us out for dinner to celebrate the fact that you finally put down some roots here!"

With a secretive smile on his face, Sam sat on the steps and was waiting for Dean when he heard a knock at the door and ran over to open it.

Ten minutes later, he was in the back seat of the car, Dean was driving, Salem was in the rear view mirror, and based on the expression of the monster in the passenger seat, Sam had a feeling that he'd never see the town or their uncle again.

* * *

Dean looked in the rearview mirror as the town that he had thought would be his future faded into his past. He thought he saw Cas, his boyfriend, standing by the transformer, heartbroken.

The thought of hurting him was almost enough to make Dean turn the car around, but he remembered where his focus was supposed to be and adjust his mirror so that he could see the barrel of the gun flush against Sammy's temple.

"Something wrong, son?" their maniacal abductor laughed, teasing the trigger ever so slightly.

Dean's breath caught, and he resolutely drove straight ahead, willing Sammy to be strong and hoping he'd have enough strength left over for himself.

"No, sir," he answered steadily.

"Good. Take this exit."

They took the car until it ran out of gas, hours from home, then Dean was told to call home and make it believable.

The gun against Sammy's head meant he had no choice, although he hesitated, not sure whether to call Bobby or Cas.

As much as he loved their uncle, though, he couldn't stand the thought of speaking directly to Cas and breaking his heart, lying to him, and telling him that he didn't love him after all.

He dialed Bobby's number.

"Hello?" the gruff voice answered hopefully.

"Bobby, it's Dean," he replied, purposely making sure his voice was devoid of emotion.

"Dean! Where are you, son? Are you okay? YOu have Sam, right?" The questions probably would have kept coming, but Dean, cut in.

"Just stop, Bobby. I'm sure you tried, or something, but whatever you did either wasn't good enough, or it was just too little too late. I've got Sam, and you'll never see him again. You don't deserve him, old man."

Dean listened to the stunned silence on the other end and covered his end of the payphone so that Bobby couldn't hear the tears in his voice.

"Dean, what happened?" Bobby asked in a vulnerable voice that Dean had never heard before.

He hated it, but he had to pull out all the stops or Sam would die. "I guess you were never meant to be a father after all. Nice going, though. I think you actually made me worse!"

He hung up with a resounding click before having to say any goodbyes.

"Was that good enough?" he asked desperately, searching the lunatic's face.

He tilted his head thoughtfully, cocking the gun.

Sam screwed his face up in anticipation, and Dean froze where he stood, shaking like a dead leaf but unable to make any conscious movements.

The monster continued deliberating for countless desperate moments before laughing and ejecting the magazine.

Dean breathed slowly, but he still couldn't move. There was one bullet left in the chamber, and that was all it would take.

He wanted to see Sam's eyes, but he was overwhelmingly glad that he couldn't see the fear in his baby brother's soulful orbs.

Even nature, all around them, held its breath until the last bullet was emptied from the chamber and deposited harmlessly into the palm of the mad man.

Sam ran into Dean's chest before Dean could even recover enough to hold out his arms, but he quickly compensated by wrapping his brother tightly and holding him fast.

"Don't think you're off the hook," the monster warned, reinserting the magazine into the hand gun. "Let's drive, Dean."

Both boys immediately complied, piling into the next car the man had chosen, and Dean drove where he was told, following every direction implicitly.

With Sam's life in the balance, what choice did he have?


	9. Chapter 9

It felt like years to Dean. He was chained to a post and helpless, forced to watch his brother's innocence get stripped away from him. They were hungry and tired and both of them were terrified, to the point where even Dean could no longer mask it.

Before, John was insane, yes, but there was still a semblance of method to his madness, and Dean could easily bear the brunt of his attacks. Prison had changed him, though. The insanity of monster hunting was now coupled with the maniacal scheming of a man who no longer had anything to lose. Dean wasn't even sure if John was still a man at this point. He had shied as far away as he could from the "supernatural" forces that John insisted were real, but he couldn't help but think that if there were such a thing as demons, they had to look an awful lot like his father did now.

There were no words to describe the torture that John was putting them through. He kept insisting that Sam and Dean were not his children, and he was determined to discover what kind of monster they were.

He had sliced their skin with various instruments, waterboarded them in water that he insisted had been blessed by a priest, forced salt down their throats, and burned them. When each attempt failed, he would become overwhelmed with anger and just beat the shit out of them.

The worst of all, though, was the way every time Sam looked to Dean for help and there was nothing Dean could do, he had to watch the hope fade away from his brother. Dean had already made his peace that he would die here, but he couldn't fathom the idea of his brother being forced to meet the same fate.

When he wasn't trying to figure out what they were, John left them chained up and usually got drunk somewhere. Dean still wasn't sure how he could be so careless and not get caught for anything or recognized as the escaped convict that he was sure someone was looking for.

There was no way of tracing the time, except by John's visits. but everything stretched on long enough that Dean was resigned to the realization that there was no one looking for them.

The next time John left, he pulled himself together and forced himself to look at his baby brother. Sam had long since given up on looking at Dean; he had finally realized that Dean was just as helpless as he was, if not more.

Dean had to do something, though. He cleared his throat, but Sam didn't even lift his head.

"Sammy?" he asked hoarsely, his throat worn out from the screaming he'd done.

Sam returned an indecipherable grunt.

"Do you want to hear a pirate story?" Dean asked.

Sam slowly raised his head and looked at Dean, incredulous at first, but then he realized that Dean was serious and he slowly nodded his head.

Dean took a deep breath and winced at the pain in his ribs before continuing.

"Once upon a time, there were two pirates, and they were the kings of the high seas." He paused, waiting for Sam to correct him and tell him that pirates couldn't be kings, but nothing came from Sam's corner. Dean sighed softly and continued.

"They sailed around on their own for a long time, but eventually they realized that they would never get anywhere on their own, so they applied to the international guild of high sea robbers." This, at least, got him Sam's full attention even if the younger boy showed no emotion in the process.

"Their application was denied," he continued, pausing to cough, "but they had watched the guild closely, and they knew that they wanted to be part of something like that. They didn't want to be alone anymore. They decided that being part of the system wouldn't be their best option, but they were not sure if there even was another one. They were resourceful pirates, though, so they decided to form their own group. They flew their skull and crossbone banner high and proud and sailed around the seas, looking for anyone to join. Most of their options didn't work out because people on the high seas took one look at the banner and turned the other way without getting to know that the two pirates didn't mean them any harm. Eventually, though, they approached a beautiful yacht and it didn't turn away. Its captain was a pirate once, and he lived by the philosophy that if the pirates don't shoot first, he'll give them whatever they need, because he knew how hard it was to survive on the high seas."

Sam's face didn't really change, but Dean saw the spark of something rekindle deep in his brother's eyes at the reference to Bobby.

"As the pirates got closer, the captain asked them what it was they wanted, and they explained that living on their own was getting them nowhere, and because the captain was probaby the best man sailing on the high seas, he invited them aboard and offered to teach them everything they needed to know so that they could go somewhere with their lives and never have to live on a pirate ship again. The pirates eagerly accepted and were overjoyed to start their new life. With only a couple bumps along the way, they adapted to their new life, and they had never been happier. Suddenly they had crewmates and they shared a bunk where they each talked about the things that they had learned and avoided talking about the people that they were falling in love with."

Sam frowned as if to contradict Dean's comment, but Dean pushed over, overly excited to have finally earned a legitimate reaction from his brother.

"The older pirate had his heart set on a dashing brunette with eyes that looked like all the most beautiful things in the world were the buried treasure that created the sparkles in their blueness."

"What?" Sam asked, so quietly that Dean almost missed it.

He grinned giddily. "Sorry, got a little carried away. You know I could talk about Cas forever," he apologized. "It's his own fault for being so damn gorgeous."

"Okay, gross. Please just," Sam hesitated, but Dean knew what he was going to ask.

"Sure, Sammy," he replied affectionately. "Anyway, the older pirate was enamored with an angel incarnate, while the younger pirate was currently more into blondes." He smirked teasingly in Sammy's direction.

Sam shook his head, then winced at the apparent pain that the action caused.

Eager to move past any memory of pain, or why they had it, Dean carried on with the story. "What the pirates didn't know was that their ship was cursed and if they didn't occupy it, an evil sea monster would chase after them and try to force them back into their lonely servitude. They were captured by the monster and dragged to the bottom of the ocean where they were forced to be slaves in a slimy, underwater castle. They thought that they'd never see the yacht or any of their new family again, but they had underestimated their associates because what they didn't know was that in a guild, the members never give you up. The others on the yacht worked tirelessly to find a way to break the curse, and one day, they finally found the solution, freeing the pirates from the castle and slaying the monster forever. The two pirates made their way back to the yacht and lived there happily for the rest of their lives, raising the younger pirate's many children with the help of their partners. The older pirate, of course, married his angel, and the captain officially inducted them into the guild onboard the yacht."

"Happily ever after?" Sam asked, what sounded like hope creeping into his voice.

"Of course, Sammy. They got their happily ever after," Dean promised, feeling empty inside as he spun empty lies although he couldn't help clinging to the tiny shreds of hope that his work of fiction was creating.

There was a comfortable silence for a while, then Sam asked wistfully, "Dean? What was the solution to killing the monster?"

"I have no clue," Dean answered honestly. "We'll have to ask Bobby and Cas after they get us out of here."

Sam hummed thoughtfully. "Are you sure they haven't forgotten about us?"

"If there's anything I learned from being with Bobby, it's that he'll never abandon us. He knows that we need him. As soon as he stopped waiting for us to find our own way back, he got every master mind in the country to help him get us out of here!"

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Dee," he whispered.

"Anytime, bitch," Dean replied, nearly genuine happiness in his voice.

"Jerk."

* * *

After that, time began to blur together. John brought new instruments and tried them out, Dean and Sam bore the brunt of his dissatisfaction, and then he would leave and Dean would tell a pirate story.

Slowly but surely, he began to rebuild the hope in his brother's eyes, but he was beginning to wonder how much longer he would last here.

He thought about Cas, but that started to hurt to because he began to build irrational thoughts about how if Cas really loved him, he would have rescued him by now. Obviously, Cas was only human and probably still believed that Dean had taken his heart and run with it.

Still, it was hard to have to realize that he and Sam had no hope of rescue. The more he insisted to Sam that the cavalry was practically around the corner, though, the more he believed it himself.

Then the door slammed open with all of John's usual force, and Dean quickly cleared his mind so that his father was not even more outraged by unsolicited good cheer.

It wasn't John, though.

A whole horde of people came streaming through the door, and none of them were John. Dean started shaking, terrified that this would be it, that he was going to have to watch his brother die, because they could barely survive John beating on them, there was no way they could withstand this whole army.

Then he focused and realized that the horde of people was made up of a whole lot of bullet proof vests, and they all said "FBI" on them.

The relief was palpable, and his knees gave out on him, which didn't make much difference considering that he was chained to a post, but it was the embarrassment of being unable to hold himself up that counted.

Having cleared the room, hands began working at his chains, but he struggled against them. "Sammy first," he insisted until someone shook his shoulder gently and showed him that Sam was being taken care of as well.

When the chains were finally cut and the shackles were loosened, Dean realized just how weak he really was without the support he had been relying on for days. He tried to stumble over to Sam, but he was held back easily by the buff and tough agents who were determined to keep him where he was.

Then he heard the slightest whimper of pain from Sammy, and the adrenaline running through his veins let him break free of their hold in an instant and run to his brother, where he collapsed and just cradled Sam's head in his lap, stroking his long, unruly hair and dropping countless tears on the battered face that he loved so dearly.

"Sammy," he whispered.

"'M alright now, Dee," Sam promised in the same low tone.

Dean couldn't have moved if he tried at this point. He barely managed to get his hand around Sam's arms before his muscles stopped cooperating.

He could yell just fine though, and everyone who tried to make him let go of his brother quickly discovered that.

"NO! I just got him back, you can't take him!" He insisted hotly to the SWAT team, the FBI, and the paramedics.

"Dean!" one of the paramedics shouted back, getting in his face and forcing him to focus.

Dean froze. "Gabe?" His mind refused to process how close they had to have been to home for Gabe to be a responding paramedic here because it was busy trying to reconcile the fact that Gabe had never led him wrong with the fact that Gabe was gently prying his hand off Sam's arm. "Why?" he asked brokenly.

"We have to check his injuries and get him an IV," Gabe explained evenly now that Dean was done being hysterical. "I promise that as soon as you are both stable and secure, you can see as much of each other as you'd like, but for now, we need space to take care of each of you."

Dean nodded numbly, blindly trusting Gabe, and let the paramedic do his job, watching everything they did to Sam critically until both boys were shut in separate ambulances for the trip to the emergency room. As soon as the doors shut, it was like a switch was flipped in Dean's brain, and he grabbed Gabe's arm urgently.

"What is it, Dean?" Gabe asked, concerned.

"Cas?" Dean asked desperately. He wasn't sure what to ask, but he had to know the answer.

Gabe's face softened slightly. "He's been worried sick. He'll be meeting you at the hospital with Bobby."

Dean hadn't realized just how much he cared whether or not Cas still cared until the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders for the second or third time that day. He zoned out and let the paramedics do their jobs, wondering if sheer willpower could get them to the hospital any faster.

It was a few hours of tests and poking and prodding and transfusions and IV's before they finally decided that while neither boy needed any surgery, they would need some other treatment and some close observation for a little while.

Both were wheeled into a double room and hooked up to their various machinery before the curtain was pulled back and Dean could look over and see his brother's face again for the first time in forever.

"Heya, Sammy," he smiled.

Sam beamed back. "Dee," was all he said, but worlds of emotion were conveyed in the simple syllable.

By the time Bobby slipped through the door, they were comparing diagnoses and arguing like children over whose was worse, between Dean's double pneumonia and Sam's total of forty-seven stitches and one more cracked rib than Dean.

Bobby shook his head ruefully, unwilling to admit to the source of the sudden cloudiness in his vision as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

"Welcome home, boys," he said gruffly, stepping up to their beds so he could grab one of their hands in each of his and squeeze gently.

(To preserve the dignity of the three exceptionally manly men depicted here, the next ten minutes have been cut from history.)

Dean cleared his throat and attributed the moisture on his face to the fact that the hospital was warmer than John's hell hole.

He looked away from his uncle and brother, afraid the emotion would well up again, and focused on the doorway for a moment, until he saw the mop of unruly hair hovering near the entrance.

He froze, the words sticking in his throat as he tried to call for the other boy, and according to the beeping monitors, his heart rate began to accelerate.

At the increased beeping, the mop of hair materialized into the vision that Dean had missed more than anything.

"Dean," he breathed, hesitating in the doorway.

Dean lifted his free hand, terrified of what the reception would be, and forced a hopeful smile. "Cas?"

In a blur of dark hair and sparkling eyes, Dean found himself enveloped in an incredibly gentle hug, and he was wholly unashamed of the tears that he shed at the feeling of finally being back where he belonged.

Cas finally pulled back enough to press a tender kiss to Dean's lips, which Dean returned eagerly, then rested their foreheads together so they could just look into each other's eyes.

"I love you," Dean whispered, totally uninhibited.

Cas smiled widely and leaned impossibly closer. Dean felt His returned "I love you more," against his own lips rather than heard it, and he quickly closed the gap, sealing their declarations for all of time within that kiss.

Dean laid in the bed, caught between Cas and his family, and for the first time ever was hit by the realization that he didn't have to choose. He pulled back from Cas slightly, causing the other boy to frown.

"Don't do that, angel. I was just going to ask if you guys had chairs so that I never have to let you out of my sight again," Dean assured him tenderly.

Bobby grunted and mentioned going to get some before doing just that, but Cas just curled up on Dean's bed and pillowed his head on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, babe," he whispered. "I'm never letting you go."

Dean glanced over and caught Sam's approving smile. "Happily ever after?" the little shit teased, but Dean didn't have the heart to even be annoyed.

He smiled back cheesily. "Uh huh," he agreed. "Happily ever after."


	10. Chapter 10

_My apologies for the long wait, my loves. Independence takes a lot of work, apparently, and I've been bone tired just trying to pay the bills! At long last, however, I have finally finished this story. Epilogue will be up immediately after, and there will be imaginary champagne to celebrate my first completed multi-chapter fic. Please feel free to join me in our collective imaginations._

 _Anyway, quick disclaimer. I don't own Supernatural, I am not making any money off of this, I am neither a medical professional nor a mechanic, so don't quote me and don't sue me! Enjoy!_

* * *

After the doctors had a chance to talk, which Dean was fairly certain was really just code for giving the family time to get reacquainted, they came back into the room, armed with clipboards and fake smiles.

Sam was the first to notice them, which wasn't terribly surprising considering that Bobby was preoccupied making sure that he did everything the nurses hadn't done yet and Dean and Cas were literally and figuratively wrapped up in each other.

He greeted them halfheartedly, and one of them smiled fondly at him. "How ya holding up, trooper?" he asked in a voice that made it clear that he saw Sam as much younger than his fourteen years.

Dean looked up just in time to catch the look of disapproval that Cas received from another doctor, and both boys' expressions darkened, but Dean tightened his protective hold on his boyfriend's arm.

"I had a near death experience for the past however long we've been gone, and you're here to remind me that I'm not out of the woods yet," he stated defiantly, meeting the doctor's gaze. "Don't tell me I can't be as close to my boyfriend as I want right now."

The doctor appeared to think things over and came to the conclusion that a happy patient was worth more than a rumpled bed sheet. He nodded silently and looked to the other doctor for direction.

"Mr. Singer, I presume?" the older doctor asked, stepping forward and extending a hand to Bobby.

Bobby nodded and shook the offered hand. "And you are?"

"My name is John Smith and this is my associate, Donald Noble. We'll be providing the general care for your," he consulted his chart briefly, "nephews during their stay here, although I assure you that we do so with the complete guidance of specialists should they be required."

Bobby nodded. "Nice to meet you both. What are we looking at?"

"Well, Samuel here is getting off pretty easy. Once we've stabilized his vitals and brought his nutrition level back to an acceptable rate, we'll be able to discharge him with special instructions regarding his ribs and stitches. Dean, on the other hand, we need to get this pneumonia knocked out before we can really give you a solid plan, but we're looking at a hospital stay of at least six days for him right now. We would like to suggest that each of them take advantage of the availability of our behavioral health specialists during their stay to ease the process of readjusting to normal life, and all of that information is available from any nurse working this shift. Do you have any questions for us?"

"I'm assuming the nurses can explain everything as it happens?" Bobby asked.

Both doctors nodded. "Yes, we have an excellent nursing staff here who can inform you of any extra information that you're interested in. Of course, if you have any needs or concerns, you can always contact them, and I'm sure that they have shown you the ways to do that?"

Bobby, Sam, and Dean all nodded.

"Well, if that's all for now, we'll see you the next time we make our rounds! We have a lot of space to cover, and not nearly enough time." Doctors Smith and Noble made their exit and left the boys together again, but not for long.

A faint knock on the open door heralded the arrival of Sheriff Mills. She smiled at each boy fondly, greeting them warmly.

"Sam, Dean, we're so glad to see you both back home, safe and sound! Between our own deputies, your uncle, Cas here, and the FBI, there was not a stone that they would leave unturned until they had you back where you belonged!"

Dean quirked an eyebrow at Cas as he realized that while she was talking to the boys, clearly, her attention was focused on Bobby.

Cas smirked back and Dean decided to just ask Bobby about it later.

"Thank you for everything you did," he replied just as warmly. "The only thing that kept us going sometimes was knowing that you guys wouldn't just let us go."

"You got that right," Bobby half growled, and Cas echoed the sentiment.

"Well, I've got to get back to work, but I just wanted to check in on you and see you for myself! Oh, Bobby? Do you think it would be alright if the little ray of sunshine came up for a minute? She was pretty set on meeting the boys."

Bobby and Cas and Sheriff Mills shared a smile, and this time both Dean and Sam cottoned on before Bobby nodded. "She's got energy, but she isn't rash or anything. I think it'll be fine."

The sheriff smiled again and started to back out of the room. "I'll send her up, then. Good seeing you, boys. Night, Bobby."

"Night, Jody," Bobby returned easily. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Anytime," she promised with a grin, then she was gone.

Dean waited the perfunctory five seconds before turning his full attention on his uncle.

"So when exactly did all that happen?" he demanded, while Sam giggled in the background.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bobby insisted while his cheeks and ears were tinged pink.

"What, you trying to tell me that you and the lovely sheriff didn't take the opportunity raised by close quarters and stressful deadlines to get a lot closer?" Dean teased mercilessly.

"You better be glad you're an invalid," Bobby growled back, choosing not to answer.

Dean looked to Cas, who smiled knowingly.

"They've been an item for the past two weeks," he informed Dean and Sam in a fake whisper, much to Bobby's chagrin.

"Way to go, Bobby!" Dean cheered good-naturedly, then he sobered up. "How long were we gone for, then?"

"It was two weeks and five days," Cas answered promptly. "Your uncle and I got Sheriff Mills to agree to start looking for you as soon as he got that phone call, and she called the FBI in on it when a computer search with your last name turned up the information about your father's jailbreak."

"Which is when I came into the picture!" an exuberant new voice chimed in from the doorway. "Pleasure to actually meet you! My name is Charlie Bradbury, and I'm the wizarding computer genius who realized that cars are not restricted to travelling in one direction."

"So you're the whole reason we're here right now," Dean realized, comprehension lighting up his face, although that could also be attributed to the jealous kisses Cas was pressing along his jawbone.

"Pretty much! I've never been happier to see two guys in my life!"

The spunky redhead's visit, while utterly enjoyable, was cut short when Sam let out a yawn and Bobby ordered both boys to get some rest. Charlie made her way out, and Bobby leveled a stare at Cas.

"Son, I don't care if you stay in Dean's bed or find your own, but you better get some rest too! Don't try and fool me, I stayed up just as many nights as you did!"

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "You guys shouldn't have lost sleep over us," he muttered.

Bobby snorted, and Cas immediately tried to smother Dean's face with his own.

"Believe it or not, boy, we were worried sick and didn't care about anything except getting you home safely," Bobby informed him genuinely.

"Oh," Dean answered, mollified and somewhat overwhelmed by the pouring out of love that was happening. "Sammy?" he asked.

"Night, jerk," Sammy replied.

"Night, bitch," Dean shot back before returning his attention to his boyfriend. "Go to sleep, angel. I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm not going anywhere."

Cas shifted his weight so that it was somewhat on top of Dean's leg and smirked sleepily. "Oh, I know. I'm making sure of it."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, please just get some rest," Bobby begged, dimming the room's lights.

The three exhausted boys were only too happy to comply.

* * *

Cas slipped into the garage and sat down heavily. His boss, Benny, looked up in concern.

"Everything alright, Cas?"

Cas shrugged. "I thought things would be better now that Dean is home and safe, but it's been a couple weeks and the nightmares are only getting worse, and his physical therapy doesn't seem to be making any progress. I guess I didn't realize just how hard it would be for all of us to adjust to everything," he explained.

Benny nodded sagely.

"Uh oh. Is that your 'I have an analogy for this' face?" Cas asked in mock concern. All the mechanics at the garage referenced this particular face since Benny, while a fount of wisdom from varied life experience, often spoke in hard to follow analogies.

"I think you'll understand this one," Benny compromised.

Cas shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

"Have you seen the junk yard recently?" Benny asked. "We just got a car towed in after its owner died, and I know you've been working hard, so I'm going to give it to you as your bonus. Thing is, this is a '67 Impala that hasn't run in years, and you're going to have to restore it yourself. I'm not going to give you a lot of advice when it comes to your relationship, Cas, but I will tell you that Dean is a lot like that car right now. Put equal effort into restoring each of them, and you'll end up with a wonderful relationship and wide open road, both chock full of possibilities."

Cas nodded slowly. "Thanks, Benny," he said sincerely.

"Of course," Benny shrugged. "Now get to work, pretty boy! Those state inspections aren't going to do themselves!"

Cas laughed and went off toward the garage.

* * *

"As long as Sam's okay, then I'm okay," Dean insisted, stubbornly refusing to let the shrink's skillset get to him.

Crowley pursed his lips for the millionth time that day and nodded slowly. "So you don't think we should address the fact that your regression back to the mindset you were in when you first moved here could negatively impact your brother's development?"

Dean jerked back and hissed in pain at the sudden movement. "That's low, even for you, Crowley," he spat.

Crowley, the unaffected bastard, simply shrugged. "As unfortunate as the timing of the incident was, we need to keep moving forward with your independence and Sam learning to depend on your legal guardian."

"The incident? You act like it was nothing, a vacation or some shit!" Dean yelled.

Crowley smirked. "Are you actually admitting that it was more than that? Because I've been calling it an ordeal for four weeks, Dean, and you've fought me on it saying that you aren't some kind of sissy who needs help just because you were away from home for a couple weeks."

Dean shook his head. "Unbelievable. You're a despicable person. Don't you ever use my brother for anything, you hear me?"

Crowley shifted into a more comfortable position. "Well, since I'm sure you don't want to waste Bobby's money by cutting this short, what do you propose we do for the rest of the session?"

Dean glared and hoped he picked up on the hint.

"I have an idea," Crowley offered helpfully. "Why don't we bring Sam in here and let him talk. That way we're still getting work done, but you and I don't have to interact. How's that sound?"

The only answer he got was a shrug, so he went up to Sam's room and knocked. "Hey, bud, I know I promised you'd get a chance to really tell your brother what we talked about. If you want to do that now, we've got some time to listen."

Sam cracked the door open with a grin. "You couldn't break him, so you're eliciting the help of a fourteen year old? Bad form, Crowley," he joked, pushing past him to head to the living room.

Crowley followed after a moment of shock. If he was mouthing the word "eliciting" all the way down the stairs with a questioning look on his face, well, it couldn't be proven in court.

"Hello again, boys," he greeted the brothers as he reentered the room and took a seat without commenting on the fact that Sam was curled against his brother and Dean had a protective arm practically shielding him from Crowley's line of sight. "Sam, you can start whenever you're ready."

Sam took a deep breath and buried his face in his brother's side for a second before easing back and looking up sincerely.

"I just miss you, Dean. I miss the happy you. I never got to see you happy before, even though I thought I did, and now that I know what you look like when you're happy, it hurts to see you sad and upset all over again. I know you know I'm safe, and you're safe, and Dad can't hurt us ever again, and Cas is here every day so I know you two are fine, and Bobby is okay with you guys and he takes good care of both of us. I just don't know why you can't be happy. We did a good job, and I was proud of us, but now I don't know if I should have been or not because I feel like part of you got left behind in that hell hole, and Dee, I don't know how to get it back, but I'd do anything to find it if I could. I wish you'd ask Cas to spend the night so you'd have someone to help you with your nightmares, and yeah, he knows about those and he's more upset that you're trying to hide them.

"Dee, we love you. This isn't like you. I know you always have to take care of everything, but I've got Bobby, Bobby and Jody have each other, Cas is a grown man, and you have Cas, so why don't you just let it go? Let everyone live their lives, because you can't protect us forever, Dean. I'm always gonna be your baby brother, I swear, but I'm a big boy now, and you have to accept that. You can't keep saving me, and I'm not asking you to. We're home, Dee, we're safe. You can let you guard down. Please. I just want my brother back."

Dean stubbornly left his impassive mask on his face despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, and when Sam finally broke off and dropped his head, Dean buried his face his brother's shaggy hair, whispering something that Crowley couldn't quite pick up on as his shoulders shook and trembled.

Crowley just sat back as the dam finally broke, and waited for the boys to remember he was there, glad beyond words that he'd made the right decision. He'd toyed with diagnosing Dean with depression or PTSD, but some of the pieces just hadn't fit, and he wasn't willing to force it just to leave his young patient with an even lower opinion of himself. Once he realized that he hadn't seen Dean display any emotions, really, he decided to chip away at that wall until it crashed down and make sure, in the process, that Dean knew he'd never have to rebuild it.

* * *

Benny looked up from his paperwork with a frown. "What the hell are you whistling for this early in the morning, boy?" he snapped at Cas.

Cas grinned back cheekily. "Just excited about that car, Benny. Finally got it running, now it's just a matter of, uh, making sure that it knows I'm going to, uh, keep up on its maintenance?"

Benny sighed to hide the smile threatening to break out across his face. "Leave the analogies to me, son. But just so you know, I never doubted you for a second. On either front."

On an impulse, Cas ducked into the office and wrapped his surly mentor in a bear hug. "Thanks for everything, Benny."

"Yeah, yeah, get to work, you overgrown child," he muttered. And if Cas happened to take a long lunch after a familiar face showed up for the first time in weeks, well, Benny can't watch the clock all day can he? He has a damn job to do, that's why.

Across town, Cas jumped as his phone pinged, cursing as he noticed the time. "Benny's gonna be so mad, babe, I gotta go!" he was saying, pulling his hand away from Dean's even as he unlocked his phone before his jaw dropped.

"What is it?" Dean asked, instantly concerned and also a little guilty since he'd been keeping Cas a little preoccupied despite the time.

"Benny told me to take the rest of the day and touch up the detail work on my 'car', and yes, those air quotes were included in the actual text," he replied, barely looking up.

Dean frowned. "Your car?"

An instant smile broke across Cas's face. "I was going to surprise you once you were up to it. Ever done any detail work on a car before?"

"Still not sure where this is going, babe," Dean answered cautiously, "but no, I haven't."

"Wanna learn?"

The answering grin was a clear response, and the end of the day found them covered in paint, laughing hysterically, as they looked at the car (which had yet to be touched) and made outrageous plans for future road trips until it was time to go home for dinner.

"You okay, babe?" Cas asked, noticing a strange look on Dean's face as they strolled casually.

"That's the thing, angel. I think I really am," Dean answered cautiously.

While the sudden fire in Cas's eyes claimed that he would prefer to be doing something much more inappropriate, the older boy contained himself enough to simply press a heartfelt kiss to the knuckles of the hand clasped in his own.

There was plenty of time to do much more later on. It was only the rest of their lives, after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**This is not Chapter 10. If you have not read Chapter 10 yet (also posted today), go back and read that first!**

* * *

Cas leaned back and dunked his rag into the water, taking the chance to admire his boyfriend's suntanned back as he tirelessly worked on his side of the car.

"She's beautiful, Cas," Benny said, coming up behind him and admiring the sleek black exterior of the Impala.

"Yeah, he is," Cas agree absently, glued to Dean.

"How does she run?"

Cas smirked. "Wanna find out?" Benny nodded in an attempt to be nonchalant, and Cas laughed out loud, earning an appreciative glance from Dean.

"Oh, hi, Benny!" Dean greeted the newcomer, drying his hands on his pants and holding out his hand for Benny to shake.

Cas had taken Benny's advice, almost to the letter, and ended up recruiting Dean to help him restore the piece of beauty just to make sure he was spending time with his boyfriend. In the process, Dean had learned an awful lot about cars, and as a result, Benny had offered to apprentice him at the garage, assuming he wanted a job. Dean, of course, leapt on the offer, and after a teasingly serious warning about no fooling around on the job, Benny had hired Dean as his newest mechanic.

"I was about to show Benny how pretty she runs," Cas explained. Dean grinned wildly.

"Can I come with?" he asked eagerly and little jealously.

Cas laughed again and explained to Benny, "He's gotten a little possessive of her, I think. He calls her his baby and everything!"

Dean shrugged half heartedly. "What can I say? She's the second prettiest thing I've ever laid a finger on in my life."

Cas blushed at the implied compliment. "Come on, Dean, let's rinse her off so we can take her for a spin around the block," he suggested.

Dean grinned playfully, and Benny quickly excused himself to get some things in order before he got caught in what looked like it was about to be the most massive water fight that the property had ever seen.

He wasn't wrong.

The two dripping wet boyfriends were waiting for him by the sparkling car when he got back, and they piled into the Chevy and started her up, all three of them mentioning the purr of her engine appreciatively.

"Where to?" Cas asked, pulling out of the yard cautiously.

Dean thought for a minute. "Wanna come over for dinner, Benny?" he offered. "I'm sure Bobby won't mind, and it'll kill two birds with one stone."

Benny shrugged. "I could eat," he agreed, and Cas quickly drove the short distance to Bobby's house.

Sam met them at the door with a grin a mile wide. "Is the car done, Dean?" he asked.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean answered heppily. "She's next to perfect!"

Sam ran outside to look at the car, and Bobby came around the corner. "There you all are! Just in time, too! Dinner's going on the table as soon as Cas gets plates out for Jody to put it on," he greeted the guys.

Dean smirked. "You heard the man, Cas!"

Cas shrugged and placed a quick kiss on Dean's lips as he went to do what Bobby said. "that just means you get to wash the dishes after we eat," he reminded Dean over his shoulder.

Dean frowned then shrugged and went to call Sam in for dinner.

So it wasn't perfect, but it was pretty damn close, and he was pretty sure it was the best his life had ever been.

* * *

 _And it's done! I really don't know how to feel, but thank you all so much for the feedback and the comments, and keep them coming! Next up is finishing BHSW, so keep an eye on FFN for that one. (Once I get a couple chapters going, I'll create it on AO3 as well.)_

 _I love all of you!_

 _~Hailee_


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